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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25600462">Watermelons and Indiscretion</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoobearStyles/pseuds/BoobearStyles'>BoobearStyles</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Styles - Fandom, Larry Stylinson - Fandom, Louis Tomlinson - Fandom, call me by your name - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AlternateUniverse, Boyfriends, Boys In Love, BoyxBoyRomance, English, French, Friendship/Love, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Multi, hintsofjealousy, idontknowwhattotag, larrystylinson, sexualthemes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:21:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>22,401</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25600462</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoobearStyles/pseuds/BoobearStyles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>'Call Me By Your Name' inspired Larry Stylinson fic. This is a work of fiction; none of the events are real. No copyright infringement intended. </p><p>The one where Louis's family have a summer home in the beautiful French countryside and house Harry as he works on his law degree. They fall hopelessly in love, but will it stay that way? Follow the journey they take to confessing their love for one another.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eleanor Calder/Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Louis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A/N : I apologize if my French is horrendous; I'm not fluent in it; i had to Google Translate a lot of it, please don't come for me.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter One</p><p>Louis recalls being really put out when his mother told him that they would be housing some Brit. “Arretez de vous morfondre et allez preparer la chambre pour lui; il sera ici bientot.” Quit your moping around and go get the room set up for him; he’ll be here shortly; She had scolded, ushering him in the general direction of the spare bedroom that is attached to his own. He had rolled his eyes, dragging his feet as he does what she tells him. “Est-ce repare?” Is it fixed up, she asks as he makes his way back into the dining room. He nods his head as he lifts a croissant off the table to lather in hazelnut spread before stating, “Je ne comprends pas pourquoi faisons ca maintenant.” I don’t understand why we’re doing this, now; he states, the French spilling from his tongue effortlessly. She wipes some of the spread off the corner of his lip, tutting him for being such a mess before answering in English, “Because he is studying abroad, and you know what, I don’t need to explain myself to you.” She scolds, making her way to the front of the house as the unmistakable sound of tires crunching on gravel reaches their ears. He tries to fight the eyeroll and obvious groaning, he really does, but he just can’t help it. “Bonjour, Harry!” Louis’s mother greets, jovially, the ‘H’ in his name falling away in their tongue. “Bonjour, Madame Deakin.” He had greeted, just as jovial. His voice alone should’ve told Louis that this was going to end in a mess of heartbreak and tangled limbs; the voice that sent a pleasant tingle down the length of his spine, the voice that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention and had stirred something awake within his trousers. “Louis!” his mother beckoned. He rushes to her side, trying to avoid any eye contact with the stranger with the most beautiful voice. “Oui, maman?” he queried, looking at her rather than the stranger that he senses is towering over him. “Help Harry up to his room, would you?” she asks in English. He nods his head once, taking one of Harry’s suitcases and nodding his head toward the house, gesturing for this stranger to follow him. “Merci—” “You don’t have to always speak French; we’re from Doncaster, so our English is rather perfect. We just prefer to speak French while we’re here.” Louis interrupts, not bothering to look over his shoulder to quench his thirsty curiosity. “Right.” Harry mutters, sighing. “So, this is your room; my room is connected, so be sure to knock if you need anything.” Louis sighs, setting the suit case beside the door before he finally gets a glimpse of this stranger and he really wishes he hadn’t. He’s utterly breathtaking, he finds himself thinking as he stares into the jade colored eyes. “Your room is connected right through that door there?” Harry asks, pointing to the open door. Louis nods, clasping his hands behind his back, unsure what to do with himself. Harry nods, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll be sure to knock, then.” Harry hums, his voice had dropped an octave and Louis can’t help but wonder why. “Dinner will be served soon; I’ll let you know when.” He informs before he’s rushing out of the door they had just walked through together.<br/>
At dinner, Harry is the perfect gentleman and Louis uses all of his willpower to ignore him. He’s not here for more than a couple of months, no need to get attached. “What do you do for fun, Louis?” Harry asks him, leaning against the table, eyes sparkling with curiosity. Louis shrugs, sighing as though bored when in all reality, his heart had done a funny flip at the words. “Nothing much. I like to just bike the country-side, go for a dip in the river near here, take the girls out for fun.” “The girls? Your sisters?” Harry asks, eyes sparkling at him. Louis nods his head before checking his watch, pressing a kiss to his mother’s cheek before telling her, “Promis de rencontrer le groupe au bord de la riviere.” Promised to meet the group down by the river; his French dripping off his tongue. “Don’t be out too late.” His mother returns; he catches her shrug a shoulder at Harry as he makes his way out. Louis is surrounded by his favorite people and has a beautiful girl in his lap, but where is his mind? Back at his home with the man with chocolate curls and the voice as rich and thick as molasses. “Est-ce que ca va?” Are you okay, the girl asked; her brown eyes boring into his cerulean ones, a wrinkle in her brow as she takes in his distracted appearance. He shrugs his shoulder, lying back before responding, “Bien; laisser seul.” Fine; leave it alone. She had scoffed, climbing off his lap with an eye roll. Louis is unperturbed by her annoyance; he, simply, leans forward with his elbows on his knees as he watches all of his friends skinny dip into the river.<br/>
Upon his return, he strips down to his skin, collapsing onto his bed when the distinct sound of skin against skin and hushed sounds of pleasure reach his ears. He simulates ignorance; there’s no way that he’s masturbating that noisily with the knowledge of their shared wall, right? Wrong; he very much was touching himself and Louis knows this for a fact when a particularly loud groan reaches his ears. Bloody hell, he groans, squeezing eyes shut in the hope that it’ll somehow cleanse his filthy soul. The gall of this man, Louis finds himself thinking as he drifts into a restless sleep.<br/>
The following morning, he finds that Harry is already awake when he catches a glimpse of him returning from a jog, delightfully sweaty with a red tint to his cheeks. He waves up to Louis with a smirk on his face, sending Louis’s heart skyrocketing. “Morning, Lou.” He had greeted as soon as Louis made his way downstairs. “Louis.” He corrects, earning a bright smile that alerts Louis to the new information that Harry has dimples; dimples that Louis wants to make a home in. “I think I like ‘Lou’ better.” He jests, taking a bite out of the apple in his hand as he sends a wink to him. “Alright then, Curly.” Louis jibes, grabbing the croissant soaked in hazelnut spread that his sister, Lottie, hands him. “Curly?” he asks, a smirk playing on his sinfully pink lips. “Yeah, because of your hair, obviously.” Louis states around a mouthful of croissant. Harry simply smiles, nodding his head. “Okay, Curly it is then.” He states, throwing away his apple core before brushing past Louis, but not before he stops right beside him, pointing to his own mouth. “You’ve got some hazelnut spread just there on your mouth.” He tells him, watching with intent as Louis swipes his tongue to lick it clean. “You got it.” He hums, walking up the stairs, to shower no doubt. He’s only here for a couple of months, don’t get attached, Louis is repeating this mantra in his mind while he struggles to swallow his last bite of croissant. “Il est vraiment beau, non?” He’s truly beautiful, isn’t he, Lottie asks, French spilling from her tongue on reflex. Louis guzzles down two glasses of water before bounding his way outside. He hops on his bike, pedaling his way down the dirt path, relishing in the burning in his quads and calves, welcoming the burn in his lungs as a healthy distraction from the man that he hardly knows. As he approaches the house, skidding his bike to a stop and hopping down, gracefully, he spots him. He’s lying in the sun, a pair of iniquitously short and tight yellow swimming trunks donning his lower half and Louis doesn’t remember how to breathe or how to swallow his own saliva. “Afternoon, Louis. Good ride?” Harry asks, rolling his head to the side to look over at Louis from behind his aviator sunglasses. Louis is almost 100% sure that Harry worded it that way on purpose. “Mm, yes. Soaking up the sun?” Louis queries, forcing his tongue to form words. Harry inhales deeply, a small smile on his chiseled face as he turns it up towards the sun, “Hm, you should join.” He answers after a beat of silence. “I was about to head down to the river; would you like to join?” Louis invites, mentally kicking himself for getting himself into the position to spend more time with this god of a man. “That sounds lovely, thank you. I’ll wait for you out front.” He states, standing to pull a vintage Queens t shirt over his head. Louis races up the stairs to his bedroom, taking deep breaths as soon as he sets foot inside. He pulls on a pair of green trunks and a white button down left unbuttoned before bouncing back down the steps, ignoring his sisters’ chants of, “Louis aime Harry!” Louis loves Harry. “Lead the way, tour guide.” Harry jokes, gesturing Louis ahead of him. Louis rides leisurely, allowing Harry to take in all of the sights; the many apple orchards around them, the wine vineyards, the horses. “It’s peaceful out here, isn’t it?” Harry observes. “Mm, very observant, Curly.” Louis teases, nearly falling off of his bike at Harry’s answering smile. “Not much further.” Louis announces as he comes upon the familiar clearing.<br/>
They are met with Louis’s group of friends; Jordan, El, Cal and Hannah. “Hey, c’est Harry.” He introduces upon their arrival; the group crowd Harry, especially Hannah and Louis tries really hard to ignore the annoyance that flares up at her amorous attention towards Harry. “Louis, tu te sens mieux aujourd’hui?” Louis, are you feeling better today, El asks, taking the seat beside him, grasping his hand between hers. He offers a small smile, nodding his head, but his eyes are glued to the way Hannah is wrapping herself around Harry’s arm and giggling at him every time he says anything. “Combien de temps etes’vous ici, Harry?” How long are you here for, Harry, Hannah asks, chewing on her lip as she bats her eyelashes at him. “Quelques mois.” A couple of months, he responded. Louis hadn’t realized that his eyes had been locked on Harry until Jordan sat beside him and gave him a knowing smirk. “You like him.” He states in English. Louis whips his head back over to his friend, disbelief written on his features. “How can I like him when I hardly know him?” Louis states. “Then why do you look like you want to tear Hannah to pieces?” “Shut up.” Louis grumbles, effectively ending that conversation.<br/>
Louis had spent the rest of the time at the river distracting himself with El in his lap. He forced himself to peel his eyes away from Harry and Hannah, especially after Hannah pressed her full lips to his. Louis swore that he could see red, could practically taste it as he watched Harry’s hands fall to her waist. He’s only here for a couple of months, the mantra is flooding his mind yet the jealousy is pumping through his veins at a faster pace. “Louis?” El calls, trying to obtain his attention, but all he sees, all he hears are Harry’s chuckles paired with Hannah’s squeals. “Tu rentres avec moi?” Come home with me, he asked her. She bites her full bottom lip as she nods her head at him. He takes her hand, leading her back to the tree that all of their bikes lean against. No guilt floods his blood as he is pressing her against the darkened side of the house; no remorse as he hitched her leg up to rest against his hip and kisses her, feverishly; no regret as he explores her mouth with his tongue. He feels at peace with himself as he lies her back against his bed, kissing the length of her body while his fingers undress her. He tastes no contrition as he tastes the sea between her legs, he feels no shame when she comes with his name whispered into his ear but all he can think of are those unholy yellow shorts and the way they hugged Harry’s thighs; there is no penitence as he comes with the thought of Harry’s touch burning his skin. He feels sated as he kisses her, greedily, in the shadows of his home, bidding her goodnight. “Good time?” Harry drawls, sitting on that same lounge chair as earlier. “Hm, very. You?” Louis retorts, leaning against the wall, casually. “Not nearly as good as you, it would seem.” He hums; even in the dark of the night, Louis can see how his eyes are glittering. There are stars in your eyes and I want to be one, Louis thinks. “You seemed to hit it off with Hannah.” Louis discovers his mouth saying. “Nice girl, but I don’t fuck when I first meet someone.” He reveals, standing and suddenly Louis feels incredibly small. “Good night, Louis Tomlinson.” Harry hums, his voice sending those trembles through Louis’s entire being, awakening the part of him that was just satisfied. “Good night, Harry Styles.” Louis says to Harry’s retreating back. He lies in bed, stroking himself into oblivion, biting down onto his pillow to smother his whimpers as he comes, yet again, with the image of Harry’s hand touching him, coaxing him to completion. He’s only here for a couple of months, he falls asleep thinking.<br/>
He greets Harry with an amused grin on his face, handing him an apple on his way out to meet El at the river, again. “Where are you headed, Louis Tomlinson?” Harry calls out after him. “Hm, to have another good time, Harry Styles!” he shouts back over his shoulder. He rushes his way down to the river, pleased to find El already wading in the waters, awaiting his arrival when he creeps behind her to lift her up around the waist and walk her further into the waters. “Louis!” she squeals, giggling when they emerge, soaked and refreshed.” Hm, bonjour, El.” He greets, bumping his nose to hers. “Bonjour, Louis.” She hums, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. After he’s feasted on the citrus between her thighs and he’s wiping his chin clean, Hannah comes skidding to a halt. “Ou’est Harry?” where’s Harry, she asks, breathless. “Hm, back at my house.” He answers in English, fully aware that she isn’t fluent. El shoves at his shoulder, earning an exasperated eye roll as he translates his previous statement to French for her. She beams, thanking him before speeding down the dirt path. “Qu’est-ce qui ne va pas?” what is wrong with you, El scolds, lightly shoving his shoulder. He ignores her question, pulling her lips back to his, instead. He takes her back with him to his home, promising a dip in the pool out back and lunch, only to find that Harry is lying in his lounger with Hannah draped over his body as he kisses her and roams his hands along her body. Louis tastes acid on his tongue, but he’s quick to wipe his expression of any emotion as he leans against the wall, “Good time?” he repeats Harry’s words to him. Harry chuckles at that, but Hannah looks annoyed as Harry moves to a seated position. “Vous prevoyez de le baiser la ou quelqu’un pourrait le voir?” Planning to fuck him where anyone could see, Louis aims at Hannah, earning an eye roll. “Louis!” El says in shock. He takes her hand and leads her inside, up to his room and to his bed, where he uses her body once more to distract him for the fury that is flowing through his veins. He doesn’t hear her when she comes with his name on her tongue, only feels her clench down around him, pleasantly while he hears Harry begging to fuck him in his mind, sees Harry’s beautiful face contorted in pleasure as he paints her thighs and midsection in the color of his seed. “Je suis desole, fuck.” I’m sorry, he huffs as he stands on wobbly legs to get her a warm wash cloth to clean her with. When they return downstairs, Hannah has disappeared and Harry is lounging in his chair with a book in his hands and his aviators on his nose. “Better?” he inquires, looking directly at Louis. “Somewhat.” Louis responds. “Bonjour, El.” Harry greets with a kind smile, a smile that is lopsided and makes one of his dimples appear and steals Louis’s breath away. “Bonjour, Harry. Avoir une bonne journee?” Having a good day, El returns, standing beside Louis with her hands folded before her. Harry nods his response, still smiling at her. “We were going to have a dip, do you mind?” Louis asks, suddenly unsure. Harry gestures to the pool, shrugging as he returns to his reading. “Go on, El.” Louis ushers, sitting beside Harry to light up a cigarette. “What are you even studying for?” he asks, flicking some of the ash away from Harry, because god forbid it touch his perfectly tanned and muscled legs, Louis thinks. Harry keeps his attention on the book as he answers, “Hm, law.” “Isn’t that incredibly difficult?” “Yes, but I don’t mind it.” “Am I bothering you?” “I like your company.” Four words seal Louis’s fate; put the wax seal on his absolute obsession with the curly haired and dimple-having man. He stomps out his cigarette before dropping himself into the deep end of the pool, hoping to cool his overheated skin. The sound of El’s squeals and giggles reach his ears as he shakes the water out of his face and brushes his hair away from his eyes. When dinner rolls around, Harry is nowhere to be found, much to Louis’s dismay. He hears him, though; for the second time, he hears Harry’s pleasured sighs and the furious movement of skin on skin as he fights to sleep, but all he can see is the way that Harry’s muscles must look right now; skin pulled taut across them as they strain, a light sheen of sweat glistening down the length of him as the moonlight dances on his skin, his lips parted in a silent plea as his brows furrow in concentration. Lord, help me, I’m going to lose my mind, Louis thinks to himself as he grinds his hips into his mattress, relishing in the friction as he loses himself in the daydream of getting lost in the warmth of Harry. What does him in is the barely audible, “Fuck me”, paired with his whimpers; Louis’s mind blanks at that, because he would love nothing more than to give him what he’s begging the darkness for. He’s into Hannah, you fucking twat, Louis scolds as he wipes himself clean. He falls into an angry slumber as he thinks once again that he’s only here for a couple of months.<br/>
He doesn’t see Harry the next morning and that doesn’t sit well with him. He tries to hide his disappointment, but everyone at the table seems to notice. Lottie follows him as he stands to ride his way into town, “Triste de ne pas voir votre petit ami?” Sad about not seeing your boyfriend, she teases. He flicks her in the nose before answering in English, “He’s not my boyfriend; plus, I’m fairly certain that he’s into girls.” She giggles at his pout. “Et s’il aimait les garcons?” what if he was into boys, she giggles. He rolls his eyes, placing a hand on his hip as he looks at her for elaboration when who should butt in. “What if who is into boys?” Harry asks, placing his hand on the handlebar, dangerously close to touching Louis’s ass. “No one.” Louis answers too quickly and Lottie’s answering cackle is all Harry needs to know. “Lottie, is Louis gay?” he spits, ever the straight-shooter. Lottie blushes, looking wide-eyed at Louis. “Louis is standing right here, Curly; why don’t you ask him yourself?” “Are you, then?” Harry deadpans, his jade eyes staring into Louis’s sea blues. “Are you?” he returns. “Answering a question with a question; guess that gives me all the answer I need.” Harry states with a smirk. “But you didn’t answer me.” Louis points out, but he still doesn’t get his answer, only receives the view of Harry’s deliciously sweaty back and his delectable peach that Louis could only dream of tasting.<br/>
“Louis, tu aimes Harry?” do you like Harry, El asks him as they sit outside a small café, sharing a blueberry muffin. Louis sighs, shrugging his shoulder. “He’s an alright lad.” He answers in English. She shakes her head, “Non, tu aime Harry?” she elaborates. No, I don’t, Louis thinks; Like doesn’t seem to cover what he feels for Harry; are there even words that could describe the depravity he feels for that man? “I don’t know what you want me to say.” He sighs, leaning back in his chair as he watches her face. “Je pense que tu es jalouse d’Hannah.” I think you’re jealous of Hannah, she states, folding her hands before her. He scoffs, rolling his eyes. Jealous of what? That she’s a woman; that she has long, blond hair, full hips? That she seems to be Harry’s type? Never. He never answers her accusation; they simply return home, departing after the café. “How was your day, Lou?” Harry calls from his spot on his bed; the door adjoining their rooms is open. “Could’ve gone much better, Curly.” He answers, flopping onto his back unceremoniously. “Wanna talk about it?” “Not particularly, Curly.” He groans, covering his eyes with his arm as he thinks about the fact that he heard Harry come twice, now, in that very bed. Thinks long and hard about the fact that he was probably lying against the headboard just as he is right now. A second later, he curses his sinful thoughts as he hears Harry clear his throat; peeking at him through his lashes reveals his flushed cheeks as he turns away, closing the door. Fuck me, Louis groans, internally. As they sit at the dinner table, the chatter of his siblings does nothing to quiet his own thoughts. He probably thinks I’m a freak now, Louis frets, looking up from his glass of wine at Harry, who is already looking at him. He tunes out the polite conversation until he feels Lottie kick his foot under the table. “Louis, Harry asked you a question.” She huffs under her breath. He looks into the green irises across from him and feels himself sink into the spell that is Harry Styles. “Would you mind taking me into town tomorrow? I need to pick up some things for my courses.” Harry states. “I’m sure that Hannah would love to go with you.” Louis states, bitterly. “I’d much rather you do it.” Harry surprises him by saying. “Then, of course I’ll do it. When do you want to go?” he asks Harry. “Whenever you’re ready to.” Harry replies. “Alright, we’ll go as soon as I wake and am showered.” “And after he’s had his croissant; you don’t want to deal with him, otherwise.” Lottie teases. I roll my eyes but tell him, “She’s not wrong, though.” To which Harry gifts him with a smile, a full smile that he hasn’t given anyone. On his way to bed, he stops outside his door just as Harry stops outside his, looking into those sparkling jades only to find that they resemble onyx right now. “Good night, Louis Tomlinson.” He says, his voice gruff, husky in the most delicious way; like calloused fingertips on smooth skin. “Good night, Harry Styles.” Louis answers, his voice just as gruff. Oh, I am so gone for this stranger, Louis thinks to himself as he thumps his head against his closed bedroom door.<br/>
Upon morning’s arrival, Louis is a bundle of nerves that he tries to disguise with indifference. Harry shoots him another grin that has Louis reminding himself to breathe. “Ready to go?” he asks, throwing a casual arm around Louis’s shoulders, causing the shiver in Louis’s spine to feel anything but casual. “Yeah, let’s head out, then.” Louis answers, slipping out from under Harry’s ridiculously tan and tattooed arm. Harry chuckles, following Louis out to their bikes. “You’re really skittish, you know that? Like a horse; one wrong move and I could get kicked so hard that I forget my own name.” Harry observes. Louis tosses him a smirk as he positions himself on the bike seat, “Well, then you’d better watch it, huh?” Louis retorts. Harry doesn’t answer, just shakes his head with a fond smile on his lips. The entire ride into town, Louis can feel Harry ogling him and Louis would be lying if he told you that he wasn’t pedaling while standing more often than not due to that fact. Louis comes to a stop outside the café he and El had went to the day before while Harry tells him that he’d be back shortly. He’s only here for a couple of months, stop staring at his legs and wishing you knew how they’d feel around your waist, Louis repeats inside his head as he watches Harry bike a little ways away to a bookstore that he then disappears into. He sits outside, lounging in the early afternoon sun, a cup of coffee sitting on the table in front of him when Harry scares the living daylights out of him. “Fucking hell, mate, damn near gave me a fucking heart attack.” Louis says between gulps of air, trying to still his frantic heartbeat. Harry laughs, taking the seat opposite him to reply with, “Told you that you were like a horse.” Louis rolls his eyes and shakes his head, trying desperately to keep the fond expression from gracing his features. “And I told you to watch it, yeah?” Louis retorts, raising a brow. Harry leans back in his chair, large hands folded across his stomach as he stares into Louis’s soul, “Well, where’s the fun in that?” He teases. They’re enjoying their afternoon, chatting about Harry’s course load, Louis’s sisters, how he likes coming to the French countryside so frequently and coming around to bullshit when Hannah and El stop beside their table. “Bonjour, Harry.” Hannah greets, back facing Louis as she stands too close to Harry. He looks up at her with a lopsided grin before greeting her. Louis never wished more that he was born a woman than in that moment. “Bonjour, Louis.” El greets. Louis nods his greeting, eyes never leaving the encounter that is happening from across him. “On se dirigeait ver la riviere, tu veux venir?” We were heading to the river, do you want to come, Hannah asked Harry, her tone suggestive. Louis feels his fists clench beneath the table, away from prying eyes as he focuses on his lungs working. “Merci, mais Louis me fait visiter aujourd’hui.” Thank you, but Louis is showing me around today, Harry answered politely, tickling Louis’s heart. “Je pourrais te montrer.” I could show you around, she suggests, resting her hand on top of his forearm. He pats her hand before removing it from his arm with a soft smile, shaking his head. “Non merci, je voudrais passer la journee avec Louis.” No, thank you, I would like to spend the day with Louis. Louis forces the smile off his face as he brings his cup to his lips to hide his pleasure. “Okay, a bientot, alors.” See you around, then, she answers, a pout on her full lips. Harry waves as they depart, turning his attention back to Louis. It’s only been a week, you can’t be in love with him already, Louis scolds as he stares into the clear jade of Harry’s eyes. They pedal back to the house, taking their time as they talk more about things that matter and things that don’t. Suddenly, Louis wishes the ground would swallow him whole, “Are you and El an item?” “Not really, why?” “Just seems like it, but I was confused because I mean, aren’t you gay?” Louis nearly tumbles off his bike at that. “Never said that I was gay, Harold.” Louis recovers. “So, you’re bi, then?” “What’s with the third degree?” “Well, I am studying to be a lawyer.” Harry cheeks, smirking over at Louis. “Yeah, I mean—I think I prefer men to women, but I can appreciate a woman’s body.” Louis gifts him with an answer. “Hm, I agree.” Harry states as they reach their destination. Did he just admit that he likes men? “Louis, El called and asked if you were going out with them tonight!” Lottie calls from the sitting room. He hops back on his bike and races to El’s house. “Louis.” She greets, surprised to find him winded on her porch. “When are you lot leaving?” he asks, breathless. “As soon as the sun goes down. Bring Harry.” She informs him, he nods his head, hopping off his bike to pull her body into his, kissing her, bruising. “You like Harry, not me.” She explains as she splays her hand on his chest to lightly push him away. “Why can’t I like you both?” he asks, leaning forward, but she pushes him away with more force. “No, Louis. I see how you look at him.” She wraps her arms around herself, looking up at him. “You never look at me like that.” He stands up straighter, face falling at this revelation. “Do you think he knows?” he asks, looking at his scuffed vans. She shakes her head with a sad smile on her lips, “Assez inconscient, celui-la.” Pretty oblivious, that one. He nods his head, taking a deep breath, “Good.” He sighs, kissing her cheek before making his way back home. He knocks on Harry’s door, rapping his knuckles against the wood, once, twice, three times before he pulls the door open with a towel hung low on his hips and his hair dripping down his chest. “Uh, we’re going out dancing, get dressed.” Louis orders, walking away before he can convince himself that it’d be a good idea to lick the droplets of water off of Harry’s chest, to taste the soap on his skin.<br/>
Louis is wearing a pair of black skinny jeans that are practically painted on with a white tank top that does nothing to cover him up and he thinks he looks pretty edible, until he’s met with Harry in the hallway. He’s wearing a black sheer blouse with white skinnies that make Louis’s mouth water. “You look good.” Harry tells him, smiling at him. “Of course, I do, I always look good.” Louis deflects, Harry chuckles, “You’re supposed to tell me that I look good, too, you twat.” Louis shrugs, “You know you look good, didn’t think you needed the validation.” “Just wanted a pretty man to tell me he likes the way I look.” Louis chokes on his own saliva at that. He thinks I’m pretty, he finds himself thinking as he focuses harder than necessary on each of his steps. Once outside, Louis takes hold of Harry’s hand, tugging him to look at him. “You look absolutely stunning, Harry.” Louis finds the courage to tell him, living in the rush of color that is staining Harry’s cheeks as he beams down at Louis. “Thank you, Lou.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to Louis’s stubbly cheek before climbing into Louis’s car. Louis is floating on cloud nine the entire drive there.<br/>
Upon their arrival, Louis’s mood plummets when Hannah glues herself to Harry’s side. Louis hangs back in the booth that they’ve got while Harry dances with Hannah pressed to his front and a stranger pressed to his back. He is positively seething as he watches Hanna attach her lips to Harry’s while his eyes are watching Louis. “Go dance with them!” El shouts over the music. Louis scrunches his nose, shaking his head as he tosses back a shot. “You’d look better in his arms than she does! Stop being a coward!” El scolds, an encouraging smile on her face even as the sadness colors her eyes. He takes a deep breath, making his way to the dancefloor with the intention of ignoring their presence and allowing any and everyone touch him when he finds his back pressed to someone’s very firm chest. “You look so beautiful, Lou.” Harry whispers, his lips grazing Louis’s ear. He presses himself further into the taller man’s body, living for this moment; if this is all I can get from him, I’m going to make it last. When he presses his back tighter to Harry’s front, he feels Harry’s hiss all the way in his toes. “Harry!” Hannah calls over the music, beckoning Harry over to the table where more shots are lined up. Reluctantly, Harry takes his hands off of Louis, leaving him to dance with the rest of these strangers. El brings Louis a shot, smiling up at how free he looks. He feels desired as women and men alike pawn at his body, tugging his shirt so frequently that by the end of the night it’s torn open. He felt Harry’s eyes on him the entire night, watching his every movement, drinking in every sway to Louis’s hips. Despite the fact that he can feel Harry’s lust for him, he ends up alone in his bed, naked between his sheets as he falls asleep with the image of Harry’s furious gaze as everyone tried to get a taste of Louis.<br/>
He never knew how empty it would feel for Harry to not speak to him, but now he knows. The week following their trip to the club, Harry is rarely seen around the house and when he is there, he says no more than two words in Louis’s direction. He feels absolutely dejected and he doesn’t know what to do. He’s lying on a lounge chair, drifting to sleep when his skin prickles as the sound of Harry’s baritone voice reaches his ears. I’ll surely die if you continue to ignore me, he thinks, ever the dramatic. “Hi Lou.” He greets, taking his seat beside Louis. “Oh, so I’m not a ghost, then? That’s good.” Louis snarks, not giving into the temptation to look at how his skin is probably glistening with sunscreen mixed with his sweat, how he is sporting a gorgeous golden tan, how his hair is probably pushed away from his face with a bandana. “Don’t be snarky, it’s not cute.” Harry remarks, tutting him. “Excuse you, every version of me is cute, thank you very much.” Louis retorts, still not peeking at him, but he can still hear the smile in Harry’s voice when he answers with, “Yeah, you’re right.” Louis stands up, then, jumping into the pool to keep the excitement off his face. He emerges from the water, placing his forearms on the pool’s edge to look over at Harry, who looks just as beautiful as he knew he would. “Why have you been ignoring me?” he asks, direct. “I haven’t been.” His brows furrow over his offensively green eyes. “Don’t be a liar, it’s not cute.” Louis teases. Harry chuckles, shaking his head, “I, honestly, haven’t been. I was busy with classes, Lou. I promise.” He answers, seeing into Louis’s soul in only the way that he can. I hope he can’t see the amount of lewd thoughts I’ve had about him; Louis thinks to himself. Louis wants to kick himself; how could he forget that Harry is here to study abroad, that Harry is not here to steal away Louis’s heart as Louis had been thinking? He swims laps in the pool, enjoying the way his muscles cut through the water when Harry joins him a moment later, heating up his every nerve. “Have you been missing me, Lou?” Harry teases, floating closer to Louis. He rolls his eyes, scoffing, although inside, his heart is causing a thunderous racket that he is sure Harry must feel. “Piss off.” Louis replies, pulling a chuckle out of Harry. “You are, just admit it; your perfect face is turning all pink just thinking about missing me.” Harry pokes fun, but all Louis can focus on is that Harry thinks his face is perfect. “I may have been missing your face, just a little bit.” Louis admits, rolling his eyes. “I’ve missed you, too, love.” Harry answers, coming close enough that Louis can feel his body heat through the cool pool water. “Can we go dancing, again?” he asks Louis as he brushes Louis’s fringe out of his eyes, making Louis weak in all of his limbs, but one. “Whatever you want, Curly.” He answers, floating around in the green, blue and gold of Harry’s eyes. He feels weightless when Harry answers him with a smile, “Yeah, that’s what I want, Lou.” Louis nods his head, “We’ll go tonight, then, baby.” His shakes his head, hopping out of the pool after the realization of the slip of the mouth.<br/>
He rushes to the shower, cursing himself for not using his brain before opening his mouth. Baby, really, Louis, honestly; he thumps his head against the wall. He emerges from the shower, towel around his hips as he walks across the hall to his bedroom when he catches Harry ogle him very obviously. He could swear that he hears Harry whisper, “Fuck”, as Louis closed his bedroom door. He takes his time getting ready, his body still tingling from the way that Harry reacted to him. He steps out of his room in another pair of tight black skinnies, cuffed at the ankles and a maroon shirt that dips past his collar bones. Harry steps out of his room, hair ruffled to perfection and body clad in his own pair of ridiculously tight black jeans and a white silk blouse with only two buttons done and Louis thinks that’s wonderful. “You’re looking beautiful as always, Curly.” Louis comments, hands folded behind his back as he looks into Harry’s eyes. “You, too, Lou.” Harry compliments, staring into Louis’s eyes despite the blush that is staining his cheeks. “Let’s get out of here, then.” Louis tells him, gesturing for Harry to go ahead of him.<br/>
Once in the noisy club, Louis feels himself become one with the crowd of people. This, right here, is what I live for, Louis thinks as he gets lost in the uncoordinated sway of the crowd. Harry takes hold of Louis’s hand and tugs him over to a table, sitting right beside him and making his skin vibrate. “Can I ask you something?” Harry asks, sliding a shot to Louis. “Sure, but I may decide not to answer.” Louis replies, casually, as though he’s not about to come out of his skin at how close they are together. “Are you using El?” he deadpans. “Excuse me?” Louis spits, whipping his head to Harry so quick he fears that he’s given himself whiplash. Harry looks unfazed, leaning against the cheap leather as he looks over at Louis. “It’s just that you don’t seem very into her. Like at all, really.” He ponders, tossing back his shot. “You’ve really got a pair of steel balls on you, mate.” Louis states, chuckling, humorlessly. “No, I just don’t get the point of beating around the bush; hey.” He taps Louis under his chin and despite being angry for being called out, his skin lights up for Harry and he finds himself turning his face to look at him. “Do you want me?” Harry deadpans. Louis blanches, honest to God blacks out for a second before he answers, “Do you want me?” Harry smirks, looking down at Louis’s mouth before answering, “Answering another question with a question; I think you answer me without meaning to, Louis Tomlinson.” He chuckles, reaching on the table to take another shot. Louis’s brain is short circuiting, fumbling and stuttering when he’s not saying anything. “You claim that you don’t see the point of beating around the bush, yet you never answer any of my questions.” Louis points out, shooting back his own shot, focusing on the burn of it sliding down his throat rather than the burning in his skin wherever Harry touches. “Yes, I like men; and yes, I really, really want you.” Harry says, casual as he rests his arms along the length of the back of the booth. Louis would splutter his drink all over himself, if he had been drinking one. “How direct.” Louis chokes out, worrying that he will choke on his own tongue if Harry keeps talking the way he is. “No point in beating around the bush, Lou. I’ve had dreams about your mouth.” Harry groans, thrusting his hips, subtly as he grips the back of Louis’s neck. “Why didn’t you do anything about it, then?” Louis asks, turning to look at Harry’s irritatingly plump and red mouth. “Thought you were with El.” He states, sighing as he rests his head back against the booth, exposing his smooth neck to Louis and all he wants is to lean over to attach his lips to it. “And now?” Louis asks, his voice dropped an octave, huskier than he’s ever heard it. Harry lifts his hands and drops them back to the leather, looking down at his lap, “Whatever you want, babe. I’m here.” Louis’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head. “Mm, don’t say that.” Louis groans, tearing his eyes away from the masterpiece that is the man seated beside him. “I never say things that I don’t mean, Louis.” Harry states, resting one of his large hands on Louis’s thick thighs. “So, if I told you that I wanted to get out of here, take you back to my room and fuck you until the sun is up, you’d let that happen?” Harry leans over and moans into Louis’s ear, taking Louis’s earlobe in between his teeth. “Yes, please.” He whines. Louis only has so much self-control and he thinks that he had been pretty disciplined where Harry is concerned, until that moment. He takes Harry’s face between his hands and collides their lips together in a fury of lips and teeth. It’s everything and more, Louis thinks. “Take me home, Lou.” Harry pants when they pull away for a breath. “That is the smartest thing that I have ever heard come out of your mouth.” Louis teases, pecking Harry’s lips with his own, now that’s an option, he doesn’t know how he’ll ever be able to stop.<br/>
Harry is a vocal lover, Louis discovers. He loves praise and Louis wants nothing more than to give it to him. However, when they get to his home and are kissing as though their lives depend on it, Harry is moaning into Louis’s mouth which forces Louis to clamp his hand over those smooth lips, pleading with him to be silent. When they land in bed, clothes tangled on limbs from the difficult process of discarding them without disconnecting their mouths, Louis feels on fire. Harry is lying on his back, pretty silk blouse undone and exposing his toned chest to Louis and he’s looking at Louis as if he is everything good in the world. When Louis finally gets a taste of what he had been dreaming of since that first night, he feels far drunker than any alcohol could cause. He doesn’t know how he will ever do anything else, how will he go on without the feeling of Harry everywhere; taste in his mouth, fingers on his skin, nails branding him, lips bruising his skin, clamped so very tightly around him; how does he live after this? As Harry finishes, painting both of their chests, his pleasure bursts out of his mouth so loud that Louis is sure that he’d woken the entire neighborhood; he slams his lips on top of Harry’s, claiming his sounds for his own, hushing him sweetly. “Gotta stay quiet for me, baby.” He hums into the column of Harry’s throat. They fall asleep, sticky and sweaty, but Louis doesn’t think he’d have it any other way. He begs the stars and the moon that Harry has no regrets come morning time.<br/>
He definitely doesn’t; Harry wakes Louis up with his warm mouth. Louis thanks the gods that this is what his life is becoming because at this moment, he would do anything for the man that is positioned between his legs. “You promised to fuck me until the sun rose.” Harry states, voice raw and his eyes accusing. “The sun is already up, so what are we going to do about that?” Louis inquires, staring right back. Harry climbed above him, sinking on top of him and claiming Louis as his own. Afterwards, they lay together, no sound in the room other than their labored breaths and Louis swears he can hear their heartbeats. Louis thinks he’d like to stay here forever. “We’ll have to get out of bed at some point.” Louis voices. “I know.” Harry mumbles, pressing his lips to Louis’s collar bones. “Harry?” They hear Louis’s mother call from his door. They scramble for their clothes, Harry tripping in the process of putting on his boxers. Louis chuckles, lying on his back under the sheet. “Oui, Johanna?” Harry answers, opening the door. “Hannah es la pour te voir.” Hannah is here to see you, she informs him. “Merci, I’ll be right down.” He answers. Louis can feel his blood simmering just beneath the surface of his skin. Harry closes the door and walks back into Louis’s room, looking sheepish. “Come here, Harry.” Louis instructs, looking into his eyes. He does as requested, sitting on Louis’s lap. Louis attaches his lips to the base of Harry’s throat, sucking harshly to pull the blood to the surface and leave a beautiful red bruise. “Don’t let her touch you, okay?” Louis pleads; his voice sounds demanding, but on the inside, he feels as though he would crumble if he found Harry with Hannah. “Okay, Lou.” Harry answers, leaning forward to kiss him. “Alright, go on.” Louis sighs, running his hand down his face as he watches Harry walk away. How did I manage to go so long without touching you, Louis ponders as he forces himself out of bed.<br/>
He makes his way downstairs, kissing Lottie on the cheek when she hands him his croissant. “You were in bed late.” She observes. “Yeah, Harry and I went dancing; long night.” Louis omits the fact that they slept together, wanting to be selfish with Harry. He feels his heart drop to his toes when he hears Hannah giggling out by the pool. He steps out onto the patio to find her seated in Harry’s lap. Louis can taste blood on his tongue from how hard he’s biting down on it. “Harry.” Louis says, his voice menacing. Harry looks up at Louis and something in Louis’s eyes must say everything because he looks apologetic. “Bonjour, Louis.” Hannah greets, a smile on her face as she rests her hands against Harry’s chest. Louis doesn’t respond, simply walks away. You don’t own him, Louis, you don’t own him, Louis repeats inside his head. But, fuck, how I wish I did, Louis finishes the thought as he closes his bedroom door with a little more force than he had meant to. Later that night, as they sit to dinner, Louis does his best to ignore Harry. “Harry, how are your classes?” his mother asks. “I’m going to bed.” Louis states, finishing his wine before standing to leave. I don’t want to hear about your classes, no, I don’t want to know how nice Hannah is to you, or hear about your adventures together, Louis cerebrates as he walks into his room. As he’s falling asleep, he feels his bed dip behind him then soft kisses being placed beneath his ear. “Harry, go to bed.” Louis says into the dark. “Lou—” “No.” “Please, talk to me.” “No, I’m going to bed.” Louis doesn’t want to be bitter about this, he really doesn’t; he wants to just give in and claim Harry for himself, but instead he forces himself to stay quiet as Harry walks back to his designated room.<br/>
He feels slightly used and more than a little dirty the longer that he and Harry go without interacting. He’s only here for five more weeks, five more weeks and everything will go back to normal, Louis reminds himself throughout the duration of every day. “Louis, ca va?” El asks from her position on his bed. He shrugs his shoulder as he watches Harry walk up the dirt drive with Hannah’s hand in his own; his jaw hurts from clenching it so hard as he watches them kiss. “Quelque chose est arrive avec vous deux?” Did something happen with you two, El asks. He nods his head, eyes burning from not blinking while he watches the steamy exchange. “Tu l’aime?” Do you love him, she queries. He doesn’t know how to answer that one; does he love Harry? She comes to stand beside him, seeing what has him so quiet and she places a hand on his shoulder, comfortingly. “Je suis desole.” She mutters, wrapping him in an embrace. “He’s only here for five more weeks; I don’t care.” Louis tries to sound convincing but his voice cracks and his eyes pool with tears. “Lou, what happened?” Harry asks when he finds them. Louis glares at him, wishes that he could evaporate him with one look; wishes that he never knew of Harry Styles; loves him more than the birds love to sing in the morning. “Harry, I think you should leave him alone.” El answers for him, combing her fingers through his hair. Then, Louis sees something that he never thought he’d see; he sees jealousy in Harry’s eyes. “I live here for the time being, or don’t you remember?” Harry spits; his face softens when he looks back at Louis, “I’ll be right here; when you want to talk come and find me.” He doesn’t.<br/>
It’s a week later when Louis swears that he has died. He’s lounging by the pool when Harry takes a seat beside him with a plate of watermelon. “Lovely day, isn’t it, Lou?” Harry greets, but Louis doesn’t answer. He pretends that the beautiful man isn’t sitting two feet away from him; he pretends that the way that Harry hums in pleasure as the watermelon hits his taste buds doesn’t affect him in the slightest. “Do you want some?” he asks, extending the plate to Louis. He looks over to Harry and really wishes he hadn’t; wishes he hadn’t seen how seductively he’s biting into that piece of watermelon; wishes that he didn’t notice the drop of watermelon juice dripping down his chin; really wishes that he didn’t witness with his own eyes, Harry slurping the juice of watermelon in the most suggestive manner. “No, thanks.” Louis chokes out, rolling his eyes and reaching over to wipe the watermelon off his face. “Lou, please don’t go.” He pleads, taking hold of Louis’s hand when he stands to leave. He wishes that the sound of Harry’s voice didn’t make him want to give him the world, but it does. He sits back down, avoiding Harry’s gaze when Harry asks him, “What did I do?” “Nothing.” “Then, why won’t you talk to me?” “Harry, I don’t share. So, if you want Hannah, then you can have her, but you won’t have me, too.” Louis shakes his head, standing and heading back into the house.<br/>
He’s only here for four more weeks, Louis, you can ignore him for four more weeks, he tries to convince himself, but Harry forces his hand. He comes stumbling into Louis’s room, the moonlight dancing on his rosy cheeks. “Lou.” He whines. “What?” “I need you.” He whimpers, lying on the bed beside him. “I don’t want to leave without making up with you.” Harry whispers. Louis feels his heart pounding against his ribs as he fights to keep his hands to himself. “Harry—” “No, Lou, please don’t push me away. Let me make it up to you.” Harry pleads, climbing on top of Louis, peppering the skin of Louis’s bare chest with sloppy kisses that Louis just adores. “Harry—” “No, please, just let me.” Harry mumbles against Louis’s skin. “What about Hannah?” Louis spits. Harry lays his face against Louis’s hips, groaning. “I don’t want her. I want you.” He mumbles into the sheet that is covering Louis’s bottom half. “Curly, you’re drunk.” “Doesn’t change the fact that I want you.” Harry sighs, placing open mouthed kisses to Louis’s hip bones. Louis takes a handful of Harry’s hair, tugging enough to pull him away. “Not while you’re like this.” Louis states. Harry pouts at him, but Louis just shakes his head. “Are you going to make me go away, again?” he mutters. Louis sits up and begins to undress the pouting man before him. “No, love. Let’s get you more comfortable, though, yeah?” He coaxes, stroking his hand along Harry’s face. He nuzzles into Louis’s touch, getting high off the feeling of Louis’s hands on him. “Just sleep, Harry.” Louis orders, opening his arms for Harry to settle into. Why did I have to fall in love with someone so unavailable, Louis questions. The next morning, Harry wakes Louis with kisses to his skin. “Good morning, Harry.” Louis hums, eyes still closed. “I’m sorry, Lou.” He mumbles, his face in Louis’s neck. “I’m not here for much longer and I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving while you hated me.” Louis sighs deeply, tugging on Harry’s hair again to get him to look at him. “I could never hate you, you dolt.” He scolds before tasting the lips that he’s been hungry for ever since he first tasted them. He knows that his breath probably smells awful, but he doesn’t care; all he cares about in this moment is that the man he is hopelessly in love with is in his bed and is kissing him back with just as much passion. “Harry, you bloody, idiot; I love you more than the stars love the moon.” Louis confesses, his eyes closed. “You love me?” Harry whispers. “Didn’t think I could, but El asked me if I did and I—” Harry interrupts him with a feverish kiss. “Tell me, again.” He requests, looking into Louis’s eyes. “I love you.” Louis whispers. Harry’s eyes flutter closed, a small smile dancing on his lips before he’s kissing Louis anywhere that his lips can reach.<br/>
After their roll in the sheets, Louis basks in the afternoon sun glaring through his window, combing his fingers through Harry’s hair. “You realize what this means, don’t you?” Louis breaks the silence; Harry hums resting his hands against Louis’s chest then placing his head on his hands, looking up at Louis. “What?” “You can’t let anyone touch you, now. You’re mine.” Louis growls, leaning down to claim Harry’s mouth, again. “I’m yours.” Harry confirms, humming in contentment. “Good, now that we’re in agreement, let’s get out of bed and go have something to eat, hm?” Louis suggests, pinching Harry’s side. “I’ll be right down, Lou.” He replies, pressing another kiss to Louis’s lips before standing from the bed, wincing a bit as he does. “I’d say sorry, but I’m just not.” Louis shrugs as he pulls on a pair of green swimming trunks. “Neither am I.” Harry states, winking over at Louis as he leaves the room.<br/>
How did I get myself in this situation, Louis thinks to himself as he openly ogles Harry as he violates yet another slice of watermelon with his skilled mouth. “That should be illegal.” Louis jests, hoping to disguise his thirst for Harry with a joke. Harry chuckles, swallowing before answering, “I have a watermelon farm, so I can really appreciate a good watermelon.” Louis eyes him, a questioning brow raised, “You have a watermelon farm?” He asks. Harry just nods his head as he sucks his fingers clean. Louis can’t tell whether he hates that or whether its his favorite thing on the planet. “You’ll be the death of me, Harry Styles.” Louis groans. “Oh, we can’t have that. A world without Louis Tomlinson is not a world that I want to live in.” Harry cheeks, leaning over to press a kiss to Louis’s cheek, but the sound of someone approaching them stops him. Louis’s brows furrow as Harry leans back in his own chair and looks up at Hannah. “Bonjour, Hannah.” He greets. “Bonjour; voulez vous joindre a moi pour un plongeon a la riviere?” want to join me for a dip at the river, she asks, a suggestive glint in her eye that has Louis ready to break the plate of watermelon over her head. “Remember what I said, Harry.” Louis warns; avoiding French so that she can’t understand. Harry smiles, softly, shaking his head at her. “Merci quand meme.” Thanks, though, he answers. “Quand puis-je te revoir?” When can I see you, again, she queries, looking between Harry and Louis. Can she see that our souls are intertwined, can she sense that I marked him as mine, Louis wonders. Harry shakes his head, shrugging his shoulder, “J’ai promis a Louis de passer le dernier de mon temps avec lui.” I promised Louis to spend the last of my time with him, Harry explains. She touches his lips, a suggestive glint in her eyes as she asks, “Pas tout votre temps, non?” Not all of your time, right? Harry bites his lip as he looks over at Louis, winking, “Oui, tout mon temps.” Yes, all of my time; and if that didn’t clue her in that something was happening between them, then she’s blind.<br/>
They retire to Louis’s room after she leaves. “Mm, what are you doing with that watermelon, Harry?” Louis ponders as Harry pushes him back inside the room with a plate of watermelon. “Hm, oh, nothing. Just going to enjoy some juicy watermelon, Lou.” He replies, suggestively, walking Louis backwards until his legs hit the edge of the bed. “Why not out by the pool?” Louis jests, lying on his back as he watches Harry peel his trunks down his legs for him. “Oh, I wanted to taste it somewhere else, my sunflower.” He winks up at him as he takes a slice of watermelon off the plate, biting into it and moaning obscenely when some of the juice drips from his lips onto Louis’s body. “Oh, look at the mess I’m making, Lou.” Harry tuts himself, leaning forward to lap at the small puddle that is dripping between Louis’s legs. “Mm, such a mess you are, my love.” Louis hums. It was a day of torturous pleasure; Harry dripping watermelon all over Louis’s body just to lick it up and make him sticky in other ways. “I think my favorite thing is when we’re lying together, both sticky messes.” Louis hums, reveling in the scent of sweet watermelon and sex. “Me, too, my sunflower.” Harry replies, dipping his finger into the mess on Louis’s chest, spreading it around. “Let us go make a mess of each other in the shower, my love.” Louis suggests, taking Harry’s hand and pulling him up with him.<br/>
Louis hates himself, truly hates himself for wasting so much time trying to hate Harry. He absolutely loathes Father Time when Harry and Louis finally become one and they only have three weeks; then two, and before he knows it, it’s the night before Harry is set to go home. Louis holds him tight, hoping that he could somehow morph their bodies together so that they become one person. How will I live without you, he silently asks, sniffling. “Love me one last time, Lou.” Harry requests, looking into Louis’s eyes, his own eyes glassy. “You’re an idiot if you think this is the last of my love for you.” Louis sniffles, allowing his tears to spill down the sides of his face. Harry slides his body up Louis’s to claim his mouth in a kiss that neither of them want to end. But it does.<br/>
Morning comes, and both of the men find themselves trying to keep their emotions under control. Before Harry leaves the room, Louis cups his jaw and kisses him again; he rests his forehead against Harry’s, sniffling as he hums, “Je t’aime, Harry.” “Je t’aime, Lou.” Harry replies. Louis takes one of his suitcases and walks with him down the stairs, where Harry says his farewells to the rest of the family. “Lou, tell me again.” Harry begs. “I love you more than the stars love the moon, Curly.” Louis swallows the whimper that is building in the back of his throat. “And I love you more than sunflowers love the sun.” He replies, a tear slipping down his chiseled face. “Call as soon as you get home, understood?” Louis orders, cupping Harry’s jaw; not a care in the world about the fact there are eyes watching them. Harry reaches up and holds Louis’s hands, looking into his eyes, “I promise, darling.” Harry answers, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Louis’s lips. “I’m so in love with you, Harry Styles.” “And I’m in love with you, Louis Tomlinson.” He sniffles, backing away to climb into the car. Louis feels his heart shatter as he watches the man he loves more than anything and anyone on this planet drive away from him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Harry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A glimpse into Harry's mind as he returns home from his study abroad. How does he feel about Louis? Is he as infatuated with Louis as Louis is with him?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Once again, don't come for me for my French. I tried!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry felt empty, like a part of him was gone; Harry missed Louis. He missed his shining blues, his gold skin, his witty humor. He missed Louis. Harry missed their rides through the country; he missed hearing Louis speak French. He missed Louis. “Bonjour, is Lou home?” He asked Lottie. “Bonjour, Harry! Lou is moping—” “Give me that. Love?” there’s his voice; the voice that soothes all of Harry’s wounds. “Hey there, my sunflower.” Harry mumbles into the phone. “I miss you so much, Curly.” Louis groans. “I miss you, too, sunflower. I miss you so fucking much.” “Come back.” Louis jests. “I need to finish my degree, sun.” Harry tuts. “But you’re home? In your home? Safe?” Louis queries. “Yes, Lou. I’m sitting on my couch, completely at a loss for how to live without my sunflower.” “Likewise, Curly.” “Louis, El is here.” He hears Lottie say in the background. Louis sighs, turning away from the phone to greet El; “Bonjour, El; donnez-moi un instant, je suis au telephone avec Harry.” Give me a moment, I’m on the phone with Harry, he tells her. “I love hearing you speak French, sun.” Harry sighs. “Je t’aime, Curly.” He hums into the receiver. “Je t’aime, sunflower. I’ve got to get into the shower and wash the Eurostar off my skin. Call you after my class tomorrow.” Harry reluctantly informs him. Louis sighs, “Alright, love. I love you so much, Harry.” Louis says, breathless; as though Harry will forget if he stops saying it. “I love you just as much, my love.” “Sweet dreams, Harry.” “Sweet dreams, Lou.” <br/>Harry dreams that he’s back in Louis’s bed, back in his arms, dreams that he can feel Louis pressing kisses to the back of his neck. He wishes he could sleep and never wake up when his eyes open and he’s hit with the realization that he’s not with Louis. Harry climbs out of bed, gets into the shower and makes himself breakfast with a cup of coffee. He drags himself through the process of getting into his classes, focusing on his lectures, and simply trying to function as normally as possible. “What is wrong with you? You’re like the walking dead.” His sister, Gemma, pokes when he meets her for lunch. “Stop it.” He swats her hand away from his face when she starts poking his cheeks where his dimples usually sit. “Seriously, what is up with you?” she asks more seriously. He reveals that he’s fallen head over heels in love with the man named Louis Tomlinson; the man with the feathery, caramel hair; the man with eyes as blue as the sea; the man with the harshest demeanor but handled Harry with the gentlest touch. “Then, why did you come back here? He sounds amazing.” She asks, sipping her tea. “Because that’s not what I went there for, Gem. I went there for my degree; I got that part done, now I have to finish it.” He sighs, tracing his finger over the fading bruise on the inside of his wrist that Louis left when he, accidentally, held on to him too tight. “Don’t they offer the courses that you need there?” she asks. He runs his hands down his face, a war being fought within himself. “It was just a summer fling, nothing more.” He tries to convince the both of them. “If it was, then why are you moping about him?” He ponders that on his way home; he knows the answer, of course; he’s known that he was in love with Louis from the moment that he set eyes on him. Hopeless romantic that he is, he knew from the moment that he heard his name, that he was in love with him; love at first sight, and all that. He gets started on the reading for his assignments, not wanting to get distracted with a call to Louis, but it turns out that it was not calling Louis that would distract him. “Harry, my boy!” Louis answers, always larger than life. “Hey, Lou.” He answers, much sullener. “What is my boy sad about?” Louis asks, worry laced in his tone. “I miss you; trying to get used to life without my sun.” Harry pouts, flipping through the pages. “You still have me, Harry.” “Not with me.” “Baby—” “Could you just stay on with me while I do my reading?” he asks. “Of course, love.” <br/>He completes all of his reading by the end of the night. He’s sitting with a glass of wine while Louis tells him what’s going on at their house. “Hannah just walked in; no, I will not allow you to talk to my Harry, you swine. El is laughing at the fact that Hannah has no idea what I’m saying.” Everything else fades away because all Harry hears is that Louis said ‘my Harry’, and isn’t that just beautiful? “Curly, you there?” he asks. “I’m here, my sunflower.” “So, you don’t have classes tomorrow, right?” he queries. “No; I have to work, though.” “Right, normal people things. What do you do?” “I work in a bakery.” “If you make a joke about having the sweetest buns that aren’t for sale, I swear, we are getting divorced.” Harry snorts his wine. “Wasn’t aware that we were married, Lou.” “Yeah, I forged your signature while you were sleeping. Oops.” He jibes, pulling a laugh from Harry. “I love you.” He hums. “I love you, too, Lou.” “You’re still my Harry, right?” the vulnerability in his voice breaks Harry, because how dare he try to reduce what he feels for Louis down to a simple fling? “Of course, my sunflower. You’re my Lou, yeah?” “Always.” He falls asleep with that one-word dancing in his mind. <br/>It takes him three weeks to start feeling normal, again; to stop feeling so sad. He’s at work, refilling the case with more muffins when he feels him; feels his bright personality; then he hears him. “Hello, pretty boy, I heard that you have the sweetest buns here, was I mislead?” He flirts. “Lou!” He gasps, finishing his task before running around the counter to wrap him in a hug. “Hey, my love.” Louis sighs into Harry’s neck. “What are you doing here, sun?” “Absolutely detested being away from you.” “I hated it, too.” “We’re on our way home, to Donny.” Louis reveals. “That’s only like a few hours away.” Harry states, breathlessly. Louis chuckles and nods his head, “It is.” “You’re here.” “I am, now, could I get a treat for my troubles?” Louis jokes. Harry releases a watery chuckle before turning back to the counter, “Of course, you can have whatever you want, my sunflower.” He feels floaty, like he could float away if Louis weren’t holding him. He has his sunflower holding him in his bed. “I missed this, Lou.” Harry hums into Louis’s chest. Louis tightens his hold on Harry, keeping all of his pieces together. “I did, too, my love.” Louis replies, rubbing his hands along Harry’s sides. “Haz! Get your lanky ass—Oh!” Gemma’s face reddens when she sees the position they’re in. “Gem, fuck. Get out!” Harry shouts, throwing a pillow at her. “Who was that very surprised woman?” Louis asks, a smirk on his face. “My sister.” Harry groans, planting his face in Louis’s chest, nuzzling against the fine hair there. “Alright, time to get out of bed, then.” Louis says, chuckling as he stands. <br/>Harry thinks that Louis could charm just about anyone. He opens it up with a joke about first impressions being everything. She raises an eyebrow at Harry, silently asking if he’s the one, to which Harry only smiles. “Curly, do you have anything to drink here?” He asks from the kitchen. “Yes, my sunflower, in the wine fridge.” Harry responds, faintly hearing Louis scoff and say to himself, “Only Harry would have a fucking wine fridge on a college kid’s salary.” He watches his two favorite people get along, swimmingly, while he’s lost in Louis’s blue eyes. Gemma leaves a short while later, winking at them as she says, “Let you get back to what I interrupted, earlier.” And cackling when Louis thanks her for that because he would love to. Harry feels whole when he falls asleep to the sound of Louis’s heartbeat. He wakes Louis up with his mouth, like he loves to do, and begs for him to send him into the stars before he has to go to class. <br/>Harry can feel the pep in his step as he makes his way back to his apartment, he can sense the grin on his face as he walks up the steps. “Hey, my curly boy, how was your day?” Louis greets from his seat on the couch. Harry sits in his lap, wrapping his arms around Louis’s neck and leaning down to kiss him. “Much better, now.” Harry hums. “I agree.” Louis hums. Harry convinces Louis to let him rock himself to completion, all before dinner. “You just going to lock me away in here?” Louis accuses a smirk on his face as he brushes Harry’s hair out of his face. “Mm, that sounds perfect, really.” Harry jests. Louis shakes his head, laughing as he leans down and connects their mouths again. <br/>A week later, Harry walks into the apartment and demands that Louis get dressed so that he can take him on a proper date. “Excuse you, I set up that picnic by the river, which worked out perfect, thanks.” Louis quips, a scandalized expression on his face. “We never got to the food; we were too busy fucking.” Harry returns. “Yes, I said it worked out perfect, didn’t I?” Louis jibes. Harry laughs and shakes his head, slapping the fullness of Louis’s behind as he turns away from him. “Just get dressed, you twat.” Harry scolds. A proper date consists of Harry driving Louis to a retro diner in Notting Hill. “This just felt like something you would enjoy.” He explains as they walk in with their hands tangled together. Louis presses a kiss to Harry’s lips, smiling in the middle of it, “You did good, Curly.” And Harry just beams at that. They get to talking about their childhoods and about family; “Grew up in Donny and been spending my summers and really any breaks at the French house.” “Pretty great?” “Oh, definitely. It’s always a relief to get away from the business of life.” They’ve long since finished their meals, just basking in each other’s presence and getting lost in each other’s pasts. “How did you tell your mom?” Harry asks, stirring the spoon in the remnants of his melted milkshake. “Didn’t; she caught me snogging my first boyfriend.” He cringes and Harry just barks out a laugh. “You?” “I always thought that everyone just felt that way, so I was confused as I got older, you know. Then, my mom explained it to me.” “So, she explained your sexuality to you?” Harry nods with a shrug. They’re walking out, hand in hand as Harry asks, “Does she know about us?” Louis chuckles, “I’m sure everyone in that dinky little town knew.” He smiles at that. <br/>As they’re lying in Harry’s bed, basking in their after-sex glow, Louis says the words that Harry was dreading, “I need to go home, Curly.” He sighs. Harry feels himself tighten his hold on Louis. “I don’t want you to leave.” Harry mumbles, placing kisses on his neck. “I know, my love. I need to get more clothes, though. Also, I need to do my normal people things. You know, like work and things.” “Right. I forget that you have a life outside of me.” Harry jests. “A very small life outside of you, my curly boy.” “Could I come with you?” Harry mutters. “Would you be able to for a few days?” Louis wonders, his fingers running along Harry’s naked spine. “I’ll talks to Babs and then get my assignments for the week.” Harry informs him, pressing a kiss to the tip of Louis’s nose. <br/>They’re on their way to Louis’s childhood home, Harry can hardly believe it. They’re in a cab, fiddling with each other’s fingers and as Louis is looking out the window, Harry feels really compelled to kiss his exposed collar bones. You are so beautiful; he thinks to himself as he rubs his hand on Louis’s strong thigh. “We’re almost there, Curly.” He announces, snapping Harry back to the reality that they’re going to Louis’s childhood home. “We won’t be there for long, just long enough to say hi to everyone and to get my keys; my car is there.” Louis reveals, sitting a little straighter in his seat when they start driving in a residential area. “Why are you acting so nervous? I’ve already met your family, Lou.” Harry teases. “Yeah, but everyone knows you’re my boyfriend, now.” Louis enunciates, smiling sweetly as he says it. Louis pushes Harry out of the car as he pays the cabbie, thanks him and climbs out a second later. “Ready?” “Harry!” All of his siblings shout, causing a chuckle to rip out of Louis. “Guess you don’t have much of a choice.” He shrugs, leaving Harry to fend for himself, the bastard. “He was an absolute arse without you.” Lottie groans. “You sound so weird not speaking French.” Harry giggles. “Should I go back?” She chuckles as they make their way into the house. “Unless you want to, no.” Harry states, taking in his surroundings. It’s so homey and Louis is everywhere, Harry hums. He waits in the living room, Ernie and Doris sitting in his lap and tugging on his hair when Louis returns. “Oi, where’s my boyfriend gone?” Louis calls, placing his hands on his hips dramatically as he spins in a circle, causing the twins to fall into a fit of giggles. “He’s right here, Louis!” They giggle, climbing out of Harry’s lap to run into Louis’s arms. “Alright, we’ll back in a little while, maybe tomorrow, alright?” Louis tells them. He extends an arm out to Harry, his eyes twinkling up at him. “Ready to go, my love?” Louis asks. Harry is too happy to wrap his arms around his boyfriend, and all too happy to be able to call Louis his. They walk out to a Range Rover parked in the drive, Louis opening the door for Harry like the gentleman that he is before walking around to the drivers’ side. “Ready to get a feel for who I am when I’m not French Louis?” He jokes. Harry nods his head, chuckling, “I think I’d love every version of you, my sunflower.” At which Louis, positively, beams. They drive in companionable silence until they pull into an apartment complex that puts his place in London to shame. “Lou, what do you do?” this causes Louis to chuckle, bashfully. “I teach football to youths.” “And that pays for this?” Harry asks, aghast as they make their way into the lift. “Donny isn’t London, my sweet.” Louis reminds, pecking Harry’s cheek as they step off the lift and Louis begins unlocking the door. “Good point.” Harry mutters, stepping into the open foyer. It feels so Louis; like he combined both aspects of his life, the home he grew up in—all the photos from his childhood and his siblings—to his life in the little town in France—French trinkets lying around, a bike hanging on the wall just like the one at his home in France. “Bienvenue dans mon humble demeure.” Welcome to my humble abode, Louis says, arms out to his sides. “Come with me, the bedroom is this way.” He instructs, leading Harry down a hallway to the left of the entrance. “Go ahead and put your clothes in the closet or the dresser, your choice. I’m gonna whip us up something quick.” “By whip us up something quick, you mean that you’re going to order in?” Harry quips, pulling a hearty chuckle from Louis. “Look at you, figuring me out.” Louis pokes Harry in his dimples, planting a kiss to his lips before he steps out of the room. The room is much like his room in the French home; the bedding is the same muted gray and the walls are the same creamy white, but there’s a bathroom attached to his room rather than a guest bedroom. “Oi, Jordan, mate, glad you could make it home in one piece!” Harry hears Louis greet. “Piss off, you fucking twat. You going to invite me in or make me stand out here like an animal?” “I mean, you are one, aren’t you?” Louis jests. Harry met Jordan a handful of times at the river and he knows that he and Louis are close, but that doesn’t tamp down his jealousy. “Move out of the way, fucking tosser, I swear.” “Nope, I’ve got someone here.” Louis says. “Oh? Who?” Jordan’s voice sounds disbelieving. “A certain lad named Harry.” Louis reveals. “So, you finally grew a pair, huh?” “Alright, that’s enough out of you, fucking loser. Get lost.” “See you tomorrow, mate.” “Yeah, whatever. Harry, love, you get lost in my closet?” Louis jokes. He finds Harry clutching a hanger between his hands and his eyes on his feet. “You alright, my love?” Louis asks. “Yeah, sorry.” Harry responds, chastising himself for being jealous. “Are you sure, Curly?” Louis ponders, taking the hanger out of his hands to grab his attention. “Jealousy is a funny thing, isn’t it?” Harry sighs, looking up at the ceiling. Louis chuckles, pulling Harry closer to him by his belt loops. “Look at me.” Louis pleads, and who is Harry to disobey his Louis? “There’s nothing to be jealous of, love. Absolutely nothing.” He reassures, cupping Harry’s jaw before leaning in and placing gentle kisses down the length of his throat. Before he can question him, he’s a puddle in Louis’s very sure and capable hands. They spend the rest of the dwindling hours of the day being very domestic; lounging on Louis’s couch with their plates of food on their laps and their glasses of wine on the coffee table while they watch cooking shows on tv. Harry helps Louis clean up after dinner and when they climb into bed together, sliding under Louis’s gray sheets, Harry can’t help the blossoming in his chest that this is home. The thought alone is enough to make his toes curl. <br/>Early in the morning, Harry thinks that he’d be up before Louis, but it turns out that Louis is a rather early bird when he’s home. “I’ve got to start getting ready for work, lovely.” Louis announces, standing from his spot in the window bench. Harry pouts, knows that Louis has to get back to real life and that their little bubble has to be popped, but that doesn’t mean that he has to like it. “Do you think that I could come?” Harry asks, chewing on the inside of his lip, unsure, that is until Louis lights up the entire city with his beaming grin. “Of course; you’ve just got to promise not to distract me.” Louis answers, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before heading back to the bedroom, where he promptly makes his point about Harry being a distraction. <br/>Harry has joined Louis for work one whole time and all he can say is that it’s breathtaking, much like everything else about the man; the most beautiful thing that he’s witnessed Louis do. He looks so natural on the field; smiling and laughing with the kids that all look up at him as if he were the sun; Harry understands. Louis is his sun; Louis is the very air he breathes. “You’re not getting bored over here, are you, darling?” Louis asks, breathless, sweaty and hair all delightfully windswept; Harry wants to lick the sweat that is gathering above his top lip. Harry beams at him, feels his soul shining at him as he shakes his head. “Could watch you for hours, Lou.” “You have been watching me for hours, lovely.” Louis responds with a chuckle before raising his water bottle to his lips. “Well, then I could watch you forever.” Harry reiterates, smiling proudly which rewards him with Louis’s hand combing through his tangled mess of curls and smiling down at him, blinding him with his brightness. You are the sun, let me lie down for you to grow your fields of flowers, my lovely, Harry is thinking as he watches Louis walk away from him in his offensively tight black shorts; shorts that hug his behind in the most delicious way; shorts that cling to his sweaty thighs the way that Harry is wishing that he could do right about now. He has to remind himself that he is surrounded by children before his thoughts could become any more wayward. <br/>The time for Harry to return to his life outside of Louis comes much sooner than either of them is ready for. Louis is driving Harry home, hand resting on the top of Harry’s thigh, fingers relaxed between his thighs as he drives. Harry feels his heart sinking, sinking, sinking; is sure that it’s going to be lying on the floor of the passenger side of Louis’s car for him to take back home with him. “I’m going to miss you.” Harry whispers into the silence of the car. Louis takes hold of Harry’s hand and pulls it up to his lips, pressing sweet kisses to each of his knuckles, each of the creases in his fingers. “I’m going to miss you, too, love.” Louis hums, his breath warming Harry’s hand. “I got used to having you around all the time; I’ll be back to square one.” Harry huffs, squeezing Louis’s hand. Louis chuckles, shaking his head, “No, we’re not. I’ll be able to come and visit more often; every day off, you’ll come home from your shift to find me on your couch.” Louis jokes, pulling a watery chuckle from Harry. “You promise?” he requests, sniffling. “Yes, my love. And we have tonight, baby.” Louis tries to reassure, but that only makes Harry’s heart hurt more; only one more night to have your arms resting on my stomach as we sleep, only one more night to feel your breaths tickle the back of my neck in the morning; only one more night to burn as many of my kisses into your skin as I possibly can, so that you won’t forget me. <br/>They make the most of their remaining hours, falling into Harry’s apartment without a care for the neighbors, tearing each other’s clothes off while capturing each other’s pleasured sighs in the other’s mouth. “I love you so much, Harry Styles.” Louis gasped into the darkness of Harry’s room, face screwed up in pleasure, lips pink and swollen from Harry’s teeth, sweat beading at his hairline from the exertion. He looks so beautiful, Harry thinks. “I love you that much more, Louis Tomlinson.” Harry gasps back, his fingers sliding down Louis’s back, dipping into the sweat that is pooling down his spine, lapping at the sweat dripping from his throat just to taste him; taste the salt and humanness of his skin, coppery from the blood rushing beneath the skin that is rising the surface, smells his soap and the musk of just Louis. They both finish, wordlessly, breathless and knowing that no words need to be exchanged; I love you; Harry can see it behind his lids when he closes his eyes and can see it racing all over the room in his mind when he opens them. I love you; he can hear it in the way that their ragged breathing is synced so he knows that their heartbeats must be, too. I love you; he can smell it in the sweaty-sex filled air, just a bit of vanilla in the air from Louis’s cologne. I love you; he felt it when he reached the high that only Louis has ever been able to make him reach, felt it when the tingling started bubbling in his lower abdomen, pulling sweetly and making his lower half hot in the best way, felt it in the way that his heart slammed into his chest when he placed his hand over Louis’s and felt it pounding under his hand; I love you; he could practically run his fingertips over it as he traces the flawless outline of Louis’s face. “I love you.” He says anyways, voice raw and hoarse from how dry his throat is. He feels Louis’s sleepy smile on his fingertips before his eyes can register it, “I love you, too.” He hums; Harry can feel his puffs of air as his lips move around the words. I wish I could stay right here, forever, wrapped in your sure embrace and feel your sweat drying on my skin with my own, hear your blood rushing through your veins until I realize that it’s my own blood rushing through my ears, wish I could stay here and listen while your breathing evens out and becomes deeper as sleep takes hold of you; I just want to stay by your side. But he can’t, and morning comes to take Louis away. <br/>Harry misses Louis; he’s only just said a very painful goodbye and promised to call every day, but he misses him. He misses Louis; finding him seated on the left side of the couch, knees tucked up and feet placed beneath him as he reads. He misses Louis; how he would practically purr when they showered together and Harry would wash his hair for him. He misses his sunflower. “Ugh, can Louis come back, already?” Gemma complains, pulling Harry out of his despondent daydream. “He’s supposed to be coming back within the next couple of days.” Harry sighs, picking at the muffin sitting before him. “Then, quit with the moping!” Gemma scolds, flicking him in the nose. Harry misses Louis; walking in to the apartment to find that Louis already fixed up dinner and is awaiting Harry’s presence to just soak up anything he has to say. “Lou, I miss you.” Harry whines into the phone, receiving a chuckle. “I know, I miss you, too, Curly. My place feels much too big for me, now.” He sighs; Harry could see him in his mind; sitting in his favorite spot in the window, feet tucked under the grey knitted blanket that he likes to keep there and swimming in Harry’s lavender jumper. “I know what you mean.” Harry breathes deeply, trying hard not to sigh, again. “Have you just got home?” Harry asks, sitting in Louis’s spot on the couch; imagines that he can still feel the warmth of Louis, can smell the musk and vanilla of Louis. “A little bit ago; been home long enough to shower.” Louis answers; more images flood Harry’s mind; images of Louis with his wet hair, sticking up in all directions, apples of his cheeks flushed a delectable red that Harry wants to nibble on. “What about you; what did you do when I left?” Louis ponders. “Went for lunch with Gem; just got home when you called.” Harry replies, hand caressing the space on the couch where Louis’s feet would normally rest. “How was it?” Louis ponders, very obviously trying to distract Harry. They spend the next few hours talking about nothing of importance, just forming words for the sake of hearing the other talk. They fall asleep to the muted sounds of the other breathing through the phone.<br/>It’s two months later when Harry feels something shift. He’s waiting for Louis to call, as he usually does when he knows that Harry will be getting home, but he has yet to hear his phone make any noise. Hours go by without a word from Louis, so Harry thinks that it’s acceptable to call him, instead. “Oh god, Curly, I’m so sorry!” Louis shouts over the very obvious thrum of music in the back. “Where are you?” Harry asks, chewing on his index finger. “Out to a club with Jordan! I was going to tell you, but you were at work!” He calls out, a laugh building up in the back of his throat. “Oh, well do you want me to let you go?” Harry asks, nerves making his skin vibrate. “No, no! I want to talk to you!” Louis shouts. “Lou, you’re out and can barely hear me. Just call me when you get home.” Harry suggests. “Are you sure, my love? I can head out right now.” Louis offers. “No, you go ahead and have fun. Um, I love you, Lou.” Harry hums, trying to ignore the unpleasant fluttering in his chest. “I love you, too, darling. So much. I’ll call you as soon as I get home!” Louis shouts. But he doesn’t. More time goes by than Harry would like with him counting the hours since he spoke to Louis. 120 hours have passed since he last talked to his ball of sunshine and he is absolutely dismayed. Which leads him to where he is, now; scowling at a beaming Louis. “What’s the matter, love?” Louis asks as he closes the door. Harry scoffs with an eyeroll paired as he turns his back to Louis and walks off to their bedroom. “Are you going somewhere?” Louis asks, watching Harry slip on a floral print button down. “Lou, we haven’t talked in five fucking days, stop acting like everything is okay because it’s not.” Harry answers, angry that his tears are betraying him, spilling down his face in hot rivulets. “Love, I was busy.” “You promised, Lou.” Harry huffs out, pushing his hair out of his face as he stands tall. “I know, baby, I’m sorry.” Louis is pleading, eyes searching Harry’s face for any softness. “You know that I can’t stay mad at you, especially when we have so little time together, but my sunflower, I was really hurt by it.” Harry confesses, sitting on the edge of his bed, fingers toying with the rip in his jeans. “I’m so sorry, my lovely. So sorry.” Louis hums, kneeling before him, placing kisses on his knees, up both of his thighs, to each of his ribs, over his sternum, where his heart is protected all the way up to his lips. “Lou, you really hurt me. I missed you.” Harry whispers, frowning. “I’m right here, my sweet boy, I’m right here.” “But—” “I promise to make it up to you.” Louis says, and it’s his own fault that Harry has a bubble of doubt sitting in his heart at the words. He allows him to express his regret as he lies back on the bed. He’s going to hurt me, Harry thinks as he watches Louis sleep, peacefully.  <br/>Louis makes good on his promise; calling Harry even when he has plans to go out with friends. It soothes Harry’s doubt and his niggling fear of being broken. Another month goes by when another crack in their relationship shows. “Lou, I don’t think I can do this.” Harry cries into the phone, missing Louis more as each day goes by and it only increases ten-fold on the days he leaves. “Don’t think you can do what, my Harry?” Louis asks, concern and pain for Harry in his voice. “I can’t keep doing this; us.” Harry whimpers. Louis’s end of the call has gone deadly silent. “Lou?” Harry sniffles. “I’ll talk to you, later.” Then he hangs up. Harry is left a crying mess until he hears his door open and a frantic-looking Louis comes and presses his lips to Harry’s tear-stained ones. “Lou—” “No, you don’t get to end this over the phone.” Louis says, breathless and with tears in his eyes. “It’s just so hard, Lou.” Harry whines. “I know it is, Harry, but you love me, don’t you?” He asks, vulnerability and anxiousness painted all over his lovely face. “Of course, I love you.” “And I love you, which is why we will make this work.” Louis’s speech is full of passion and love; Harry feels idiotic for ever trying to leave him in the first place. <br/>It’s almost been a year that they’ve been together and he is riding a high, right now. Harry doesn’t even remember life before Louis, it’s all such a blur and he is completely content to never figure it out. That’s the thing about riding a high, though, isn’t it? You can only go so high before you are forced to come back down. Louis is a jealous man, Harry finds out. On the day that Louis is supposed to come into town, Harry is supposed to be having a drink with his friends, but one drink turns into two, then three, then Harry can’t see straight let alone count letters. He and a girl that he met at the bar stumble into his apartment, noisily and clattering shoes onto the hardwood as they work to take them off. It’s so silent in the apartment, not even crickets dare make a sound, but there’s the unmistakable sound of a switch being clicked on. “Lou!” Harry greets, moving across the room on deer-like legs to press a sloppy kiss to his boyfriend’s beard rough mouth when he notices the daggers in Louis’s icy blue gaze. “It’s late, Harry.” Louis states, voice monotonous, jaw clenched tight and arms folded across his chest. Harry pouts up at him, dispirited at the lack of affection. “Lou, don’t I get a hug?” Harry asks. “No. Who is this?” Louis asks, icy glare never leaving the girl that is standing on one high heeled boot, frozen halfway in the process of peeling off the other. “Oh, this is CeCe; I met her at the bar.” “I figured as much. What is she doing here?” Louis spits, turning his arctic glare on Harry, accusing. “Oh.” “Right, I think I’ll go home.” Louis states, turning around to collect his things before Harry can comprehend the situation. “Lou, it’s late. You shouldn’t drive this late.” Harry pouts, following him to the room. “I’ll stay in a fucking hotel, then. I don’t want to stay here, Harry.” Louis growls, only Harry can see the tears pooling in his lovely eyes. “Louis, my love—” “Don’t call me that.” Louis snaps, eyebrows drawn down in fury, his forever blue eyes even more blue as tears spill down his beautiful face. “Why?” Harry’s voice sounds small. Louis laughs, humorlessly, as he moves to stand, shouldering his duffel bag. “Are you kidding me, Harry? Because of the fucking woman that you brought home while I was waiting for you like a complete idiot!” Louis shouts, his tears falling in steady streams. “Louis, I promise that’s not why brought her here.” Harry feels his heart shattering at the thought that his Louis would think that; but then he realizes that it’s hard not to draw that conclusion when he was sneaking in with a woman gripping his arm. “Then, why?” Louis asks, voice cracking under the pressure of his building emotions. “Because her girlfriend broke up with her and she had no where to go for the night. I told her that my sunflower always knows what to say to make things better.” Harry explains, suddenly more sober than he’d ever been in his life. Louis sniffles, looking into Harry’s bloodshot eyes. “You better not be lying to me, Harry Styles.” “Louis Tomlinson, I would never do that to you. You’re my everything.” And finally, finally, Louis is in Harry’s arms, smelling of tobacco and vanilla, soft yet hard all at the same time, snuggling his face into Harry’s neck. “Je t’aime plus que les etoiles aiment la lune, mon amour.” I love you more than the stars love the moon, my love, Louis mumbles, still sniffling. “I love you more than the Earth loves the sun, my sunflower.” Harry mumbles into Louis’s soft hair. <br/>Louis also speaks French when he’s angry and jealous, Harry unveils on one of their date nights; their server had a been a beautiful young woman whose shirt kept unbuttoning more each time she left the table. “Are you fucking kidding me, Harry, she may as well have flashed you, how low she pulled her shirt. And then, there was you, all fucking smiles and sweet dumb giggles when she would flirt with you. Tu la veux, est-ce ques c’est ca?” Did you want her, is that it, Louis scoffs, tossing his keys onto the dresser as he angrily kicks his shoes off. “Louis, I am yours, there’s nothing to be angry about. I didn’t want her, my sun.” Harry tries to convince, digging his thumbs into the space between Louis’s shoulder blades. “I love you so much, I think it’s going to kill me, sometimes.” Louis mutters, anger simmering down. Harry places kisses wherever his fingers dig, holding Louis to him. “I feel the same about you, mon amour.” Harry hums, distracting Louis from his jealousy as he mouths at his neck and shoulder. Harry thinks that Louis is harboring a green monster within himself; when they’re out to lunch with Gemma and Harry’s best friend, Mitch, Louis can’t seem to keep his English right. “Sunflower, you keep speaking French, they don’t understand.” Harry points out, giggling. “Tu m’aimes correctement?” You love me, right, Louis beseeches, looking into Harry’s eyes. Harry feels himself become a mess on the floor at Louis’s feet at that, at the rawness, the uncertainty behind it. “Of course, sunflower. Why are you asking me that?” “L’avez-vous deja frequente?” have you ever dated him, he asks, eyes darting over to Mitch. “No, lovely. Il n’a jamais ete qu’un ami.” He’s only ever been a friend, Harry soothes, his thumb rubbing along the seam of Louis’s trousers. “It’s so annoying that you guys do that.” Gemma rolls her eyes, sipping her now-cold tea. <br/>Everything seems to be going beautifully, perfectly, Harry would even dare say, but then suddenly, it’s not. Suddenly, there’s more storm clouds bearing down on their usual sunny relationship; more arguments, more jealousy. “How could I not feel angry, Lou? He had his hands all over you!” Harry shouts, angrily tossing the pillow to the floor. Louis laughs, bitterly, “You’re kidding, right? You were flirting with everything that fucking looked in your direction, but you’re the one that gets to be angry?” “I wasn’t! You’re just jealous, all the time, Lou! It’s like you’re waiting for me to disappoint you.” Another pillow thrown in frustration. “Oh mon Dieu, give it a fucking rest, would you? Waiting for you to disappoint me, what do you even mean?” “You’re jealousy and your possessiveness, Lou! I don’t know what I have to do to prove to you that I am yours and will only ever be yours.” They’re both breathing heavy by this point, eyes glossy with unshed tears. “Not flirt with everyone that gives you attention.” Louis states, plainly, turning his back. “Don’t turn your back on me, Louis Tomlinson.” Harry states, fuming. Louis continues walking; Harry lifts his keys and tosses them at the wall, but Louis keeps walking. Harry is woken out of his sleep—if it can even be considered that—to Louis wrapping his arm around Harry’s middle, tugging Harry’s back to his front and pressing kisses to his neck. “I’m sorry, my love.” Louis mutters, peppering more kisses to Harry’s shoulders. “God, me too, Lou.” Harry sighs, turning over and wrapping his arms around Louis to get impossibly closer. Harry loves Louis more than he loves living, more than he loves breathing, because Louis is his life and breath, but there comes a point when you just know that it’s enough. They’ve been arguing any time they speak to each other and whenever they’re together, it feels as though they are arguing simply to make up after. Harry doesn’t think that he could ever love anyone the way that he loves his sunflower, but he thinks that maybe that’s the reason that he needs to let him go. Harry sits on the opposite end of the couch, toying with his fingers, avoiding looking at Louis at all costs in fear that he’ll lose his nerve. “What’s going on, Curly? You’re making me nervous.” Louis chuckles. Harry sniffles, looking to the heavens for support as his tears rain down. Louis knows Harry, better than he knows himself, maybe, and that’s why Harry doesn’t need to say anything for Louis to catch on. “You’re leaving me, aren’t you?” Louis asks, voice terrifyingly even and not sounding at all like Harry’s sunflower. A glance at Louis and Harry thinks he doesn’t look like his sunflower, either; he looks grey, sad. “I think that it would be best, Lou.” “Don’t call me that.” Louis chokes out, clearing his throat to maintain his indifference. “We’re not happy anymore, Louis.” “Do I get a say in this?” Louis asks, eyes on his hands, face impassive. “If you love them, let them go, right?” Harry asks; Harry feels his heart breaking as Louis stands and leaves without a backwards glance. That’s the last Harry sees or hears from him; maybe it’s for the best, but I don’t think so, Harry thinks.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Louis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>How is Louis handling their break up? Is he coping?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s been two months since Louis had his heart shattered by Harry Styles; two months since he forced himself to walk away and not look back. “Louis, just call him.” Lottie groans, shoving the phone into his hand. “He left me, Lottie; he doesn’t want to hear from me.” Louis has lost his brightness; felt himself become overcast as soon as Harry made the decision for the both of them. I love you so much, it feels like my heart can’t contain it, Louis thinks to himself as he stares at Harry’s lavender jumper. “It’s almost time to go back to the French house, maybe it’ll be better, then.” Lottie tries to soothe, but all Louis can think are the memories that they made in that house, in that bed, in that town. Harry had imbedded himself in every aspect of Louis’s life and now he doesn’t know how to live. I wonder how he’s doing, is he as crestfallen as I am, does he miss me as much as I miss him, does he still love me like I love him, Louis ponders and before he can stop himself, he’s parked across the street from the bakery Harry works at. “Louis—” “I just need to see him, just once. I need to see if he’s okay.” Louis breathes, holding his breath as he catches sight of him. His hair is longer than it was when he tried to give my heart back to me, Louis thinks. He’s smiling, though, but Louis sees the bruises under his eyes that mark his lack of sleep, Louis sees the heavy sighs when no one is looking. Then, he sees Louis, turning his head in their direction before a shocked expression graces his face and he’s making his way out to them, but Louis is a coward and he speeds away. “Why would you do that?” Lottie scolds, but freezes when she spots the tear tracks spilling down her older brother’s face. <br/>Louis doesn’t remember what dreams without Harry in them look like; all he sees when he closes his eyes to sleep at night is Harry; his smirk, his excited, dimpled grin, his green eyes that Louis could drown in, his love of the unholy fruit called watermelon. “You really loved him, didn’t you?” Jordan asks on a failed attempt to get Louis to leave the house. “I still do.” Louis answers, burying his nose in the lavender jumper in the hopes that it still holds some of Harry’s scent, but it doesn’t; all he smells is himself. “Why not fight for him, then?” “He said it best; if you love them, let them go.” Louis answers, taking a drink of his beer, angry at himself for allowing Harry’s mark in his home to disappear. It’s after drinking all night with Jordan that Louis makes a mistake that shatters him, completely; he calls him. “Hello?” his thick as molasses voice answers. Louis can do nothing but clutch the phone and try not to sob. “Lou?” He asks, that single word shattering Louis into the shell of himself. He hangs up, tosses his phone against the wall and breaks down into a fit of soundless sobs. He misses Harry; the light in his eyes, the way his nose would scrunch up when he was trying not to smile at Louis, his loud laugh that would happen any time Louis said something remotely funny. He missed Harry; his always red and soft lips that tasted of strawberries and summertime, his large hands that made Louis feel delicate, his endless torso. He missed his Harry; the boy with the curls, the boy with the rosy cheeks, the boy that told him that he loved him more than the Earth loved the sun. That Harry is gone, though; Harry doesn’t love him, anymore, at least that’s what this feels like. He’ll get through it, though, he has to. <br/>Another month rolls by and he’s starting to feel a little more like himself, or at least that’s what he leads everyone to believe. He’s sitting to dinner with his family when he’s brought into conversation. “Where’s Harry been?” His mother asks; Lottie being the only one to know of their break up shoots him a look. He feels his heart stutter, his brain shorts and he can’t remember to breathe. “Louis?” Lottie calls, resting a hand on his arm until he can see, again. “I think I’m going to go lie down.” Louis announces, making his way up the stairs to his old bedroom, to the one place that Harry doesn’t exist in. Lottie comes in a moment later, resting a hand on his back with a sad smile on her face. “You’re not okay, Louis, and that’s okay.” She hums before standing and leaving Louis to fall apart in his old bed. When he finds the strength to make his limbs work long enough to climb out of bed, he overhears Lottie on the phone. “He’s not doing good, honestly. I love you, but you did this to him.” Louis feels like he can hear the oxygen leave his body as he stands there and listens to his sister’s side of the conversation with who he assumes is the man that still holds his heart. “It’s true, Harry. He isn’t himself; I’ve never seen him so depressed. I don’t like to just use that word, but it’s been months of him not really talking, hardly eating, and crying when he thinks that no one is looking.” Louis just feels like breaking down right there, hearing that his sister knows what he thought he had been good at hiding. “Stop calling to check on him, then. It’s that simple; You’re not going to move on if you keep calling me to check on him. And before you ask, no, I don’t think he will.” Louis has to leave, then, can’t bear to know that Harry is on the other side of that conversation and he can’t hear him; can’t bear the thought that Harry is trying to move on while Louis is so stubbornly cemented to Harry. <br/>One more month and Louis forces himself to go out, to drink and dance, to return to his old self. He’s wearing jeans that hug his every curve with a black Queen tee and he thinks that he even looks more like himself. Jordan comes by to clap him on the back and congratulate him on getting out of himself while they make their way to the club. It works, too; Louis is one with the crowd, all with alcohol pumping through their veins and lowering all inhibitions. His body sways with the crowd, his skin tingles because he feels that familiar feeling of being desired. This is the life, Louis thinks, eyes closed as he gets his own sweat confused with all of these strangers’ sweat. Harry doesn’t exist here, either, Louis thinks as he allows whoever is touching him to continue to do so. He loses himself in the throng of people, becoming one with every single body that touches his; he lives for the stench of heavy sweat and spilled alcohol; exists for the feel of bodies against bodies. Louis felt high on it; the colors of the blinding lights seems brighter, seemed to swirl in a kaleidoscope of colors; the heady stench of sweat clung to his skin and he wanted to bathe in it. Despite his love of being desired, despite the hands that had been grazing all over his skin, Louis still returns home alone. He still crawls under the grey sheets and falls asleep thinking about the man with the green eyes and chocolate hair; still hurts to think about how he probably has more stubble lining his jaw; still allows the breakup to replay in his mind on a torturous loop. <br/>The rest of the week, he returns to the club to lose himself in everyone else. He allows hands to explore more of his clothed body than he usually would, allows a few lucky participants to explore his mouth with theirs, but each night, he crawls into bed alone. The vibrating of night clubs can only distract him for so long before he feels the familiar pang in his chest that says Harry would be disappointed, and that hurts Louis far more than he’d care to admit. “You look like shit.” Lottie observes as he walks into his childhood home. “Thanks.” He mutters, his voice scratchy. She turns her attention back to the phone call, “Yeah, I think you should come this summer. I don’t care what he’ll say, he needs it.” He tunes her out, lathering croissant in hazelnut spread before he hears the name that he only allows himself to think. “Harry, just do it, okay? You’re still family, even if you did break my brother, you shit.” He drops the croissant back to the plate before running out of the house in a blur of color that no one spots. He sits outside in his car, head against the steering wheel as he breathes deeply, tries with all he has to stop the flow of tears. He doesn’t even realize that he was making a mistake until he had already made it; he’s sitting outside the bakery, again, near hyperventilating as he waits to see Harry walk back into the shop. A choked sob escapes his lips as he sees him; he’s running his fingers through his hair, brows furrowed, he drags his hands down his face, which is red and by the swift exhale that leaves his lips, Louis can tell that he had been crying. Louis didn’t think it was possible for his heart to break further, but witnessing Harry’s heartbreak had surely smashed his own to a fine dust. “I love you, Curly.” Louis sniffles, wiping his own tears away as he watches Harry walk inside. “So much.” He whispers, hoping that somehow Harry would hear him. Their souls must really be tangled up, because a second later, Harry’s eyes dart straight to where Louis is parked, but just like last time, Louis speeds away before he can get to him. “You’re being a twat.” Lottie scolds when he reveals that he went to the bakery. “Not only to yourself but to him, too. You’re so deep in your own sorrow that you don’t even realize that he’s hurting, too.” He holds his head in his hands, tugging at his hair as he sniffles. “I know, I know, Lottie.” He groans. It kills him inside to know that he’s hurting, but Louis can’t help but go see him. It becomes somewhat of a ritual for him, creepy as that may sound; he finds himself parked outside that bakery more often than he is proud to admit. “He’s coming to the house in the summer, so get your shit together.” Lottie scolds, not sparing Louis a second glance. He feels like he’s choking; Harry is going to be at the house, again; he’s going to have to endure a summer with Harry, the very Harry that broke his heart to bits. “Maybe, it’s best if I don’t go.” Louis suggests, taking a deep breath to attempt to keep his heart beating. “Don’t be a fuck head, Louis. You know how much this trip means to mom.” Lottie chastises; sometimes it feels like she’s the older sibling, especially as of lately. “I don’t know if I could bear it, Lots.” He tries to keep the tremble out of his voice, but he fails, so very miserably. Lottie softens and pulls him into an embrace, “I know it’ll be hard, Louis, but please.” She squeezes him, attempting to hold his pieces together. He takes another stuttering deep breath, “Do you know—is he—has he—Lot, is—” “No, he hasn’t started dating, again. He says that he can’t bring himself to do it.” She answers his fumbled question. He releases a breath that he didn’t know he was holding, relief flooding his system. “Thank God.” “I told him that he should.” He pulls away from her as if she’d burned him. “Don’t look at me like that; it’s selfish of you to want him to stay lonely when he’s not yours anymore.” Lottie chides. “I know that it’s selfish, Lot, but—I feel like I would die if someone else was—if he was—” he can’t finish the sentence, his tears choking him, burning his chest and throat. “Louis, I think you need to move on, too.” She whispers. He shakes his head vigorously. “No. Harry was it; if I can’t have him then I would rather be alone.” She simply sighs, rubbing his back as he continues to try to breathe normally. The only thoughts in his otherwise thoughtless head is that Harry was it and he wants no one else; he’d rather die alone with the memory that he had the time he did with such a bright and shining star than to settle for someone who barely compares; that’s not fair to himself or to whoever would be in this equation. I’ll die and still love you with all I have, Louis thinks.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. HarryandLouis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Louis is hurting, Harry thinks to himself. I hurt my sun; Harry reminds himself as he sits in Louis’s spot on the couch. He rests his head against his knees, trying to remember how to breathe. The first phone call to Lottie was the night that Louis called him but said nothing; Harry could hear his struggle to breathe; could feel his pain through the receiver. He called her the following morning, hoping for reassurance, that she would tell him that Lou was doing better than Harry thought he was; he was wrong. “Harry, I can’t tell you what you want to hear; it’d just be a lie.” She sighed. “Hey, Lots.” Harry feels the breath freeze in his throat when he hears Louis’s voice, however faint it was, he heard it, heard his Louis. “Listen, he just got here, call me later.” She says in a hushed tone. “Yeah, alright.” He chokes out, still clutching the phone to his chest long after she had ended the call. Harry’s life with Louis in it was a life in technicolor, so vibrant and bright, even on their worst days; now, it’s as monotone as Louis’s voice the night that Harry ended both of their happiness; now, it’s in a state of perpetual gray, black and white hues as though he’s watching an old film. The second time he calls Lottie is the day that he sees Louis parked across the street from the bakery. His heart had leapt out of his own chest in the attempt to get to Louis, but before Harry could even get to see him clearly, he was gone. “Were you and Louis at the bakery today?” he asked her, breathless. “Yeah, that was us.” She admits on a sigh. “Is he okay?” Harry whimpers. “No, Harry, he’s not.” She admits, taking a hammer and beating his heart with it. “I miss him.” Harry sighs, hand clutching at his chest as if that could stop it from shattering further. “He misses you, too, Harry; but I think you need to move on.” Lottie tries to say it as gently as possible but it still feels like a blade to the chest. “I can’t.” “I think you need to; in order for Lou to get back to himself, I think he needs to see that you are.” “My heart is still his, Lottie, I can’t.” Harry rasps out, swallowing past the lump that has made a home in his throat. “I know that it’ll take some time, but I think that you both deserve it.” <br/>He tries to take her advice and get back to normal, but he can’t. Gemma and Mitch take him to some posh club in the city, but he doesn’t feel it. Louis would have fun here; Harry finds himself thinking as he watches everyone dancing their nights away. “Harry, stop moping! Come on!” Gemma shouts over the music, tugging on his arm to get him on the dancefloor; but he isn’t feeling it. He shakes his head, finishes his drink, then tells her that he’s going to head on home. He crawls into his bed, stretches his arm out to where Louis’s body would frequent and allows his tears to fall, endlessly. He falls asleep with the image of Louis’s shining blues, his bright smile, his larger than life personality; he falls asleep thinking of Louis’s strong arms around him as he sleeps, his soft puffs of air that tickle the back of Harry’s neck, his soft lips pressing kisses there when he wakes up in the middle of the night to readjust. He falls asleep with tears still falling from his eyes and he wakes with the evidence dried onto the side of his face and across the bridge of his nose. <br/>The third time he calls Lottie, he had made a trip to the football field that he watched Louis work at; he catches sight of him seated on the bleachers, cigarette in hand because the kids are long gone, and his hair is ruffling in the wind. He has tears spilling down his perfect face and Harry feels like dying. “Lottie, he’s hurting. I thought that he would be doing good by now.” He sniffled into the phone as soon as she answered. “He’s not doing good, honestly. I love you, but you did this to him.” He feels another blade slice into his broken heart like butter. “I know I did! I wish I could take it back. He’s fucking crying! I’ve never seen him like this; he doesn’t even resemble my Louis.” “It’s true, Harry. He isn’t himself; I’ve never seen him so depressed. I don’t like to just use that word, but it’s been months of him not really talking, hardly eating, and crying when he thinks that no one is looking.” He shatters a little more, dies a little bit more and hates himself a little bit more. “I just wish I could do something. I want to him to stop hurting; I want me to stop hurting.” “Stop calling to check on him, then. It’s that simple; You’re not going to move on if you keep calling me to check on him. And before you ask, no, I don’t think he will.” She doesn’t think that he’ll move on, Harry ponders. “I can’t stop calling to check on him, I need to know. And I’ve already told you that I can’t move on.” “Listen, Harry, I’ve got to go; I think he heard me talking to you, I need to go check on him.” She sighs. He’s hurting and it’s my fault; I broke my sunflower, Harry thinks. <br/>The fourth time that he calls her, it’s been almost a month since the last time and he feels like he’s drowning and the life preserver is Louis. “Are you going back to the house this summer?” he asked her before getting around to what he really wanted to know; how is Louis, is he more himself, is he starting to shine brighter, is he seeing someone? “We always do; you look like shit.” “Thanks.” There’s Louis’s voice; he sounds broken and Harry feels another shard of his heart break down further. “Yeah, I think you should come this summer. I don’t care what he’ll say, he needs it.” She directs back at Harry. “I don’t want to hurt him more, Lottie.” “Harry, just do it, okay? You’re still family, even if you did break my brother, you shit.” I did break him, didn’t I, he thinks. “Do you think that it’d be good for him?” he asks, a little wary but wanting nothing more than to see his Louis, again. “I do. It’ll force him out of this rut. You, too.” She states. “And your mom is okay with it?” “Of course.” She answers, but her voice is sounding far away. He swears that he sees Louis’s car, but that can’t be right; can it? He ignores it as he cleans his face of any evidence that he’s broken inside before he looks over and sees Louis; he’s gripping the steering wheel as if it is the only thing tethering him to the ground, tears are pouring out of him like his eyes are faucets and they’ve been switched on to overflow, but before Harry can get his feet to move, Louis is gone. <br/>“I think she’s right; you know?” Gemma says, sitting on his couch with a glass of wine, seeing with her own eyes that he’s doing far worse than anyone had thought. “About what?” “that you should move on.” He shakes his head; the idea alone is enough to fill him to the brim with anxiety. “No; Louis was it, Gem; I don’t want anyone else.” “So, you’re just going to live your life lonely and sad forever?” “I experienced the greatest love of my life; no one else can ever come close.” He refuses to entertain the topic any further, opting to curl up in bed and imagine that he could still smell Louis next to him. <br/>One month and he will see Louis before him; one month and he will be able to smell Louis’s familiar scent of vanilla and tobacco; one month and Harry intends to get his sunflower back. It doesn’t matter the amount of times that Lottie or Gemma tell him to move on, he would rather move backwards if it means that he gets his sun to shine again; he would rather get his sun his place back in the sky before he tries to resume his own life. “Harry, you need to start living for yourself, again; it’s time to move forward.” Gemma scolded, finding him lying in bed. “Gem, have you loved someone so completely that you feel as though your souls are tied together? That you feel pain so severely that you know they must be hurting for you to be hurting so much? That you keep breathing simply because you fear that they’ll stop if you do? Have you felt that?” He asks, back facing her as he stares at the pillow where Louis’s head should be. “No, I haven’t, but—” “Then, you can’t tell me to move on. I feel like I’m drowning only to be resuscitated, simply so that I could drown all over again. I did this, now I have to deal with the consequences. I just wish that Louis wasn’t dealing with them, too.” He mutters, sure that any second now he’s going to drown in his tears. She sighs before leaving him to his sorrows. I will get my sun back; I will place him back in his rightful place; I will make Louis shine, again; Harry swears this on his life. <br/>“When do you leave?” he asks Lottie, standing in Louis’s childhood home, feeling slightly more put together the closer he feels to his sunflower, to his golden boy. “We’re leaving on the first.” She answers, stunned that Harry is here; she looks, anxiously, behind Harry. “Listen, you need to go; Lou will be here any minute, now.” She rushes, as if Louis is there listening. “Okay; I’ll be at the house the week after you arrive.” “Why a week?” “To give him some time to himself.” It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I got there on the seventh a year ago, that I first set eyes on the sun on the seventh of June last year, that he was willing to fall to his knees for the man with the heart and soul made of gold on the seventh of June a year ago; he thinks to himself. “Okay, okay, go. Get out, now.” She rushes looking down the street with wide eyes. He rushes out to his borrowed car, but not before he sees Louis driving down the street; not before he catches a flash of surprise on Louis’s face at seeing Harry parked out front. Even with dark circles shadowing your impossibly blue eyes, even with your week’s-worth of stubble and your messy hair, even then, you are the most beautiful being to ever grace this planet, Harry thinks as he forces his body to move, forces his fingers to put the key in the ignition, forces his hand to put the car into gear and coerces his foot onto the gas pedal. He feels brighter than he had in months; still not the vibrant technicolor that life is with Louis, but it’s moving from a grey to a muted hue; colors are showing themselves to Harry once more and all because he has a plan in place. All due to the fact that he has a plan to place his sun back in his orbit, back in his sky, where he belongs. <br/>The first couldn’t come sooner; he feels like he’s going mad with time as he waits and waits and waits some more. He chances a call to Louis, just to hear his voice; “Hello?” he answers and Harry feels that one syllable word, those five letters, he feels it stroke his soul and his weary heart. “Curly?” two syllables, five letters and another caress to Harry’s ears. “I’ve got to go, but—never mind.” He sighs, ending the call, but Harry feels like he’s walking on air for the rest of the day. “What’s got into you?” Gemma asks at lunch. “I called Louis.” He sighs, dreamy. “What did you say?” “Nothing, but I think he was going to say that he loved me.” Harry muses, looking very much like one does in a rom-com; chin rested in hand, eyes glossed over, dopey smile in place. “You’re disgusting, ugh.” “I’m going to see him, again.” “What?” “I’m going back to their home this summer. And I’m going to see him, again.” Just the thought that he’ll breathe in the same air as Louis has his skin tingling. “When?” “In twenty days.” He answers, his heart fluttering in his chest at the thought. Twenty days and I’ll see him; twenty days and I’ll hear him; twenty days and I’ll smell him, again. Twenty days feels like twenty lifetimes. <br/>The day finally arrives and Harry could hardly contain himself. He’s on the Eurostar, practically bouncing in his seat with anticipation. What should I say to him; I love you, I never stopped loving you, you’re as beautiful as ever? Harry ponders and then ponders some more; what if he hates me, what if he doesn’t want to see me, what if he ignores me? His thoughts are brought to a halt as he takes in the familiar scenery while he’s in the back of the cab. He inhales the air; apples and fresh mowed grass. He feels like can smell Louis and he’s not even close to him, yet. He spots the group resting their bikes against the old oak tree, making their way down to the river; he can picture Louis with them. Then, the house comes into view; deceptively small on the outside; a charming white door with a blue chipped frame; Louis’s evergreen bike resting against the ivy-covered wall. “Bonjour, Harry!” Johanna greets, smile as warm as ever. “Bonjour, Johanna!” he greets, enveloping her in a hug but his heart is racing; can she feel it? Where’s Louis? “Louis!” she calls and there’s that same swoop in his stomach that he got the first time at the sound of his name. Then, he’s there; standing in the doorway wearing those green trunks and unbuttoned white button down; his hair is a mess, he must’ve just gone swimming; his cheeks are rosy and his eyes are twinkling at him as he approaches. Harry feels like he’s going to explode out of his skin if he doesn’t get his touch within the next ten seconds. Louis’s lips are parted, obscenely pink and so kissable and Harry is going to scream if—finally; Louis launched himself into Harry’s arms, wrapping his own around Harry’s waist and placing his face in his neck. “Hi, Curly.” He mutters; Harry can feel Louis’s thundering and rapid heartbeat against his own, can smell his signature scent mixed with sunscreen and just Louis, can feel his stuttering breaths, can feel his soft hair tickling his face and he feels whole. “Hi, Lou.” He breathes, fighting the urge to kiss him senseless. I’ve got my sun back, Harry hums when he feels Louis’s arms tighten around him and feels Louis’s lips press against the side of his neck. I’ve got my sun back and I’ll never lose him, again.</p><p>Louis<br/>Louis was reluctant to come back, having discovered that Harry would be there, but like Lottie said, these trips mean the world to their mom. The sound of the gravel crunching under tires, the sound of his mother calling out a jovial, “Bonjour, Harry!” and hearing the soul shattering voice reply with, “Bonjour, Johanna!” just as jovially; it was all painfully familiar and took Louis back to that summer, 365 days ago to the day, where he first met Harry. Where he was first introduced to the man that would make him fall in love so hard and so fast that he nearly forgot who he was. “Louis!” his mother called; more familiarity; déjà vu. He drags his eyes over to look at the face that he’s been plagued by; meeting with the dewy skin of his throat—already slightly sweaty from the afternoon sun—then the slightly more than stubbly jaw, to those raspberry colored lips that haunt Louis’s every fantasy. Louis can’t contain himself; he lunges himself into Harry’s waiting arms, nearly toppling him over; watching as all of his broken pieces come rushing back to make him a beautiful mosaic. “Hi, Curly.” Louis greets, his voice muffled against Harry’s impossibly broad shoulders that seem to have only gotten broader. “Hi, Lou.” And suddenly, everything feels as though it’ll work itself out, because his heart is back. He looks up into the eyes that he has been missing with his entire being before whispering, “Je t’aime plus que les etoiles aiment la lune, mon amour.” I love you more than the stars love the moon, my love; and ignores the sniffles that he hears coming from behind him. Harry’s face splits into a blinding grin as he beams at Louis, responding with, “Et je t’aime plus que la Terre n’aime le soleil, my sunflower.” And I love you more than the Earth loves the sun. Louis has never been very good at remaining disciplined where Harry is concerned, so it comes as no surprise when Louis places his hand on the back of Harry’s neck and pulls him in for a bruising kiss, a kiss that he promises himself will not be the last one. “I’ve missed you.” Louis breathes against Harry’s mouth. “I missed you, too, my sun. I’m so sorry.” “We have all the time in the world now, Harry. I won’t lose you, again.” Louis swears, kissing him, chastely. Louis makes good on that promise. To think it all started with some watermelons and indiscretion.</p>
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